


People of the Mounds

by xByDefault



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Drowning, Faery courts, M/M, Original Character(s), Secret Identity Fail, Sexual Content, fae!Robbie, faeries are assholes, faery mythology from different cultures, the whole gang of children at some point or the other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-18 01:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 62,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12378096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xByDefault/pseuds/xByDefault
Summary: Robbie was always messing with him in his disguises. It would be fun to pull one on Robbie for a change and let the self-proclaimed Master of Disguise have a taste of his own medicine.Yes, why not? he finally decided.“Tíu,” he introduced himself as.It was all in good-natured fun, of course. Right up until it wasn't. And it didn't take long.





	1. Cnoc Meadha

**Author's Note:**

> It all started out with a sketch of [Robbie in a fancy halter neck maxi dress](http://xbydefault.tumblr.com/post/166449930701/found-my-colored-pencils-and-had-a-bit-of-fun) dancing, and I knew what I had to do.

“What is it with the _Aos s_ _í_ and antlers?” Íþróttaálfurinn muttered next to him as they surveyed the courtyard fountain with its statues of three fair maidens, all of which adorned antlers, pouring jets of water out of urns into the basin at their feet. In the water a farrago of colourful exotic fishes swam, that he was pretty sure wasn’t native to Connemara, let alone Ireland, or the British Isles for that matter.

“Maybe it’s a local thing,” Sportacus said back. He tugged on the collar of his formal wear for the umpteenth time. “Are these really necessary? I can’t properly move in this dress coat.”

“We’re here on court business, not as regular numbered heroes, remember, _T_ _íu_ ,” the elf by his side reminded him for as many times now, though he kept tugging and adjusting his formal wear as well.

One of them was going to bust a seam by the end of the event. The perks of being invited as a third neutral party he supposed.

He’d told the residents of LazyTown that he was off on an expedition in another town. Which was not entirely false. He was _sort of_ on an expedition in another town… A diplomatic venture of sorts. On the other side of the globe. He knew that he didn’t have to worry over the townspeople’s wellbeing, he trusted them to take good care of themselves and stay clear out of trouble for as long as he was needed elsewhere. They would be doing just fine without him. The question was, if Robbie could reel in on his schemes and not go overboard as he tended to do, until Sportacus got back. Thinking of Robbie, the strange man would probably thrive in this environment. Deception and betrayal was probably something that he could very well flourish in.

As for Sportacus himself, give him a real immediate problem to deal with and solve through physical means, not that he wished for trouble to arisen, instead of this tottering mine field where a glance in the wrong direction could get him into trouble.

Forget pollution, deforestation, or the general exploitations of land and sea brought on by the humans. Their people would probably end up destroying themselves from within.

Being away from LazyTown was making him almost as cranky as Robbie, he thought sardonically.

His colleague’s voice brought him out of his dark musings. “Do you have your mask ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because I spot the queen’s diplomat, we should be ready to enter soon. Do you also remember the rules?”

Sportacus put on the _Volto mask_. The masquerade mask in patina brass was in stark contrast to the rest of their getup that was of the more traditional Nordic cut, but the theme for the event had been inspired on their respective communion. _The Hidden People_ , as was his creed, -then what more fitting than obscuring their faces completely or partially? Sportacus had picked out the Volto mask hiding the top half of his face and framing his cheeks, rather than a full-face mask. He was already constricted in this getup, he did not need to add a full facial mask to the claustrophobic sensation. “Speak only if spoken to, keep an eye out for trouble, and be weary of _Finbheara_ _’s subjects?_ ” He combed his fingers through his hair, pushing the caramel blond locks back and behind his pointed ears. He was so used to concealing his ears and hair, that the opposite concealment felt, _off_ , for lack of better words.

“Almost right, I see the queen now and I think _she_ has seen us as well.”

Íþróttaálfurinn put on his own mask, his facial features obscured completely by a black square _Bauta_ , save for his steel blue eyes through the openings.

They bowed before her as the elven matriarch neared them, along with the rest of their entourage trailing behind her, “your highness,” they greeted their chief in unison.

“ _N_ _íu_ ,” she acknowledged them with a small nod, her eyes were framed by a dainty _Colombina_ of leaf gold, she momentarily halted at the sight of Sportacus, “and _T_ _íu_. I must admit, I did not foresee you partaking in this event. You’ve been _scarce_ lately.”

 

Staying as far away from court business as he could, more like it. He had a feeling he would get reeled into more such things in the future, now that his monarch had been reminded of his existence.

 

Sportacus stayed in his bowed position, his eyes set on the hem of her black skirt, the golden embroidery of flowers glowed like embers. “ _Sj_ _ö_ has not been feeling well lately, so I’m here in her stead,” he said and straightened up. Even without her white headdress and band of gold on top of her head, she would have been at least one head taller than him.

She eyed his crystal pinned to his ascot like a brooch. “As you should, _N_ _úmer T_ _íu_ ,” she said dryly and flowed past them.

Sportacus let out a breath in relief, their queen was a creature of beauty and grace, but she was equally frightening so, as most chiefs were. He couldn’t see Íþróttaálfurinn’s face, but the crinkling of his eyes gave away his smile behind the mask at Sportacus´ demeanour.

They fell in line with the rest of the group and followed the monarch into the palace where the Connacht held court. Sportacus had never been to _Cnoc Meadha_ before and he came to a halt as they passed through the threshold and into the reception hall. The courtyard of the underground palace had been impressive, but the inside was breath-taking. By glittering jewels embedded and charms, the ceiling high above them sparkled like the starriest night sky. The walls covered in paintings and rich burgundy tapestries, and the floor was not of stone, or marble, but mother of pearl. It somehow stayed on the right side of becoming garish.

His colleague discreetly nudged his side and he shut his mouth. Not to shame _Álfaborg_ , but Sportacus had to admit that Cnoc Meadha was very different from the cascading waterfalls and the crystal springs that he was custom to.

Flustered, he ducked his head at the giggling Connacht faeries they passed by, as their attendance was announced loudly through the cavernous hall. He had to have appeared as a yokel to them by his awed reaction, - _someone to exploit_. This event was in the gesture of diplomacy and peace. That didn’t necessarily mean that this was a safe haven. Things could turn ugly at the drop of a hat.

Whilst some Huldu in their own capital Kópavogur seemed to thrive on petty intrigues, Sportacus detested this cloak and dagger business. Sometimes, he wondered how he had survived his training in their Queen’s court and gotten out unscathed on the other side without losing himself to its never-ending machinations. Times like these he was glad he had Íþróttaálfurinn, his cousin and senior colleague, by his side.

 

“ _Queen Hildur of Iceland and of the Hulduf_ _ólk_ ,” their whole group was announced as. They followed their queen as she made her way straight to greet their hosts and pay her respects.

Up on a throne of black Galena polished to a shine, sat the king of the Connacht Faeries, Finbheara. Draped in a navy-blue cloak brandishing their coat of arms, with the eagle and the sword wielding arm split in dimidiation. Íþróttaálfurinn was right, they did have a thing for antlers. On top of his head of long wavy copper was a crown of elaborate twinning of the golden band the chiefs usually wore along with deer antlers and thistles.

“Finbheara, I am honoured to be invited to your abode,” she said and did a curtsey.

The man stepped down from his throne with a flair to greet his guest. “Hildur, it is always such a pleasure to have you.”

“You flatter me. Pray tell, how is your queen?”

“Oona is entertaining the diplomats further in, we will join her shortly.”

Sportacus fought the instinct to roll his eyes at the pretentious display, a bad habit that had gotten worse over the years.

Sensing Sportacus’ frustration, his cousin gave him a warning glance. They were both stuck here until the end of the evening and there was nothing they could do about it. As numbered heroes, their job for the evening was less of protecting their queen and more of showing off her assets _. Look at the elites she had at her disposal._

Everybody knew that the Connacht faes were allies to the Unseelie court, since they shared common roots and beliefs. The Huldufólk’s attendance could be seen as superfluous, given their own alignments.

But, there had been _incidents_ , the Seelie and Unseelie court over the sea were relatively young in consideration of the vættirs and faeries measure of time. By incidents; there had been, _land grabs_. Two or three generations ago that would not have been an issue, but now, when you could travel the world in one day and the human’s taking over more and more…

This discord created unrest between all and could cripple Sportacus’ own autonomy. Flying his airship across borders without a fuss from human and faery officials was a privilege, he reminded himself. It was easy to take his own freedom for granted.

Their own diplomat was renowned for his mediating skills. Perhaps, their presence wasn’t as redundant from a strategical perspective. Iceland was a prominent nation too, in its aspect, and they were more lenient towards the Seelie court’s customs. Sportacus could endure one night of playing the game if it led to reconciliation between the two parties. It wasn’t like much was asked of him. Just, stand around and be pretty. Even if every fibre of his being begged to do something, _anything_.

 

“Don’t look now, but I think trouble just arrived,” Íþróttaálfurinn murmured for him to hear.

He turned his head to look at the direction of the great entrance.

Two tall figures entered through under the banner of the Unseelie court, a man and woman he gathered. He had already spotted some of their colours among the other guests, but Íþróttaálfurinn’s reaction and the couple’s outfits had him curious.

The closest towering figure was dressed in a leather and black feather cloak, making his broad shoulders even more comically so. He figured he was in his early middle-ages, but it was hard to tell with some fae, middle-age could be anywhere between thirty-five, to one hundred and fifty. The tips of the feathers of the cloak were dipped and glistening in an insidious red and the outfit that could be glimpsed underneath had far too many buckles for convenience. The stranger’s dark hair was cropped short, making his ears stick out in an unflattering manner from his square face, which donned a contemporary make up of dark eyeshadow under bushy eyebrow and lips like a gaping wound cross his face, however, there was something familiar about him, something about those grey eyes.

The figure by his side was the complete opposite of the dark gloomy attendant. From Sportacus’ position, their face was obscured by a hooded cloak in cream and orange lining. The outfit underneath was what drew his attention. It looked like a scandalous evening gown in peach silk gradient into pink and was held up by a necklace of rose gold by the front. Sportacus realised that his first conclusion was wrong, judging by the wide span of their shoulders and glimpse of pectoral muscles along with the narrow hips under the cincture, the wearer was very much male.

Any doubt he had about the figure’s sex got cut down when they stepped forth completely into view from their companion.

Throwing their hood back with the same cream white evening gloves and shrugging the cloak off their naked shoulders, they revealed their face.

 

Sportacus’ jaw dropped. That was-

 

“ _Robbie Rotten and Glanni Gl_ _æpur, of the Unseelie court and heirs of Rosalina Gl_ _æpur!_ ” the announcer’s voice rang loud and clear.

 

“Robbie?” he said in disbelief under his breath.

 

“You know the Unseelie?” Íþróttaálfurinn whispered in his ear.

They were not the only ones to start whispering, as the hall filled with a low murmur. “He’s the man from the town where I’m stationed. The one that’s always up to mischief.” He could not believe his eyes. Robbie, _his_ Robbie, was a fae? And one of the notorious Unseelie ones on top of that?!

“He’s one of the Glæpurs. I’ve dealt with the one called Glanni before, nasty piece of work. You know, if half of what you’ve told me about your small-town antagonist is true, then this shouldn’t be such a big surprise.”

Sportacus nodded dumbly. He was right. In light of this new knowledge, all of Robbie’s shenanigans and disguises made sense. It wasn’t just good craftmanship behind his ploys, but charms and glamour! The Unseelie’s attitude towards magic was beyond casual and without any regard to consequences. Having magic and not using it, was seen as a disgrace by their beliefs. The thought had never hit him that Robbie was one of his own, one of the ultranatural spirits, he’d dismissed him as another one of the quirky humans that resided in LazyTown. A mistake it would seem.

The other man said something into Robbie’s ear and he snickered, his gaze met his own and Robbie’s brow creased slightly. Sportacus ducked his head in fear that the expression flicking over the man’s features was one of recognition.

 

* * *

 

“Seriously, Robbie? The instructions were clear. Dress as your affiliation. Everyone knows that we are the baddies. You know, dark, _edgy?_ ” Glanni gestured to his own feathered getup, then spat, “and you pick _Salmon Pink and Rose Gold?_ ”

“You look like a vulture during mid-moulting,” Robbie pointed out in retaliation and swept his cloak off his shoulders and made it disappear with a snap of his fingers. “Besides, I’m Robbie Rotten first and most importantly, and _looks_ can be _deceiving_.”

“Fair enough. Oh lord, yes alright, you’re in the clear,” he leaned in and spoke directly into his ear, “have you seen this joke? _What_ are the _Hulduf_ _ólk wearing?_ ”

Robbie surveyed the entourage of Nordic elves and snickered. _What_ indeed? Robbie was always up for a little bit of masquerading himself, but mixing that droll Nordic formal wear and _venetian masks?_ Hysterical!

“They look ridiculous,” he murmured back.

His gaze swept over the offending party. He recognized a few of them despite their shoddy masks. The sneer on his brother’s face confirmed his suspicion that that head of auburn had to be the one Glanni always went on and on about. His brother had been no slower in pointing out, whenever he got fed up with the ranting, that Robbie whined to no end and obsessed over Sportacus too. Yeah, _right_ … Urgh, no, Sportacus was the last person he wanted to think about right now. That blue Kangaroo had gone on one of his little expeditions, as far as he knew. Robbie could once again have had LazyTown all for himself, _but nouh!_ He had just kicked his feet up and instantly had a letter with the family sigil tumbled down into his lap. Of all the godawful luck he had. So, here he was. Entertaining his mother on yet another one of these ‘ _diplomatic_ ’ gatherings. This was why he had trust issues! He’d grown up on the outskirts of the Unseelie court, but he had enough experience to know that you were as likely to wake up face down in the buffet, as you were to be found dead in a ditch in the morning. All depending on a whim.

Robbie liked drama. _From a safe distance_.

He drew his gaze from the red head and settled on the man next to him. A man that shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, who he’d never seen before, as he was pretty sure he would have remembered such a wild mane of dark gold. The elf didn’t seem to fit in with the court, he was too… Fidgety. The elf turned to him and Robbie’s gut dropped. Those cobalt blue eyes and absolutely ridiculous pencil moustache was so much alike Sportacus’. But, that couldn’t be right, could it? They locked eyes for a beat before the stranger ducked his head and continued his conversation with Glanni’s obsession of the decade.

His whirling thoughts of paranoia came to an abrupt halt by the loud outcry of a familiar female voice in a New England accent.

“Darlings! You made it!”

Yes, well, what other choice did they have?

Glanni visibly winced next to him. “Hello, mother,” he greeted her as the slim woman embraced him, before Robbie found himself on the receiving end of his mother’s public display of affection too. The tall woman was clad in a crimson evening dress, her dark hair in a fanciful coiffure and thin lips painted deep red. She looked like she was out for a cocktail evening with the rest of the trophy wife’s, if it wasn’t for the glimmer of sigils in the hem and glittering stones rattling around her wrists, neck and hair. She might as well have attended the event in riot gear, _or a tank_. If someone even so looked at her the wrong way, they’d regret it sorely.

“Oh Robbie, look at you, yes lovely choice of colours. _Desire, excitement_ and _passion_ ,” she said as she inspected his gown and gave him a pointed grin, “smart choice.”

“I should have gone with black,” Robbie muttered in dismay under his breath.

Glanni was laughing at him as Robbie got dragged away further into the parlour of the palace. He cast one last glance in the direction of the stranger, but could no longer spot him. With a frown, he turned back to chat with his mother and try to liberate his arm out of her vice grip.

Frankly, he didn’t know what he was doing there. His family was of no greater political standing… Okay, his mother did have stakes in what went on and maybe Glanni too, since he was the first in line of inheriting after her, but Robbie himself had no stance on the matter. All he wanted was to be left alone to his own devices. And it wasn’t as if anyone favoured his opinions whenever he actually did speak up.

 

After half an hour of entertaining his mother and chit chatting with her associates he was thoroughly fed up.

Ugh, no. To hell with this. He nudged his brother to come with him to inspect what the Connacht passed for as hospitality.

 

Robbie took in the tables brimming with food and he felt his mouth water at the sight. This was what made all this inane socializing worth it in the end. He reached beyond the fruits, another fleeting thought of Sportacus and wondering if he would lose his marbles over the sight of this much sportscandy, and homed in on a purple delicacy in the centre. He served himself a nice big slice of cake, Robbie could have done without the decorations of violets covering the frosting, but it was at least aesthetically pleasing to the eye. You could never go wrong with purple.

It tasted of violets too, saved by the secondary taste of pure sugar and he groaned in delight. Yes, this was the good stuff.

Sadly, his joy didn’t get to last for long, as he dropped the plate, narrowly avoiding getting purple cream and pastry over himself with a surprised shriek that matched the shrill giggles of the children that ran past him from under the tables and nearly knocked him over along with the tidal wave of ankle biters.

So much for that.

“Please don’t tell me those are changelings,” he lamented while trying to find his bearings. Human children brought underground and into the courts had never really sat right with him for some reason.

Glanni asked him around a mouthful of… _Something_ he’d plucked from the table, “why do you care anyway?”

“I don’t, but I get terrorized enough as it is at home, at least here I was hoping for a breather away from those screaming little terrors.”

He didn’t look like he believed him. Glanni swallowed what Robbie now figured was chocolate covered cherries, “right. If it gives you any peace of mind, they’re not. But, I would keep it down if I were you. We can’t have people think you’ve gone soft.”

“Shut up, Glanni,” he sneered and bared teeth.

“That’s more like it.” He took another handful. “I never thought I’d say this, but you got to try some of this.”

“Fruits and berries?” He gagged. “No, thank you.” The fruits here may be a tenfold sweeter than the ones the humans grew. But, he had principles! Instead, he reached for the pitcher and poured himself a glass of amber liquid, swirled it and took a sip. Nectar and spices, he should probably take it easy on it, it didn’t burn as it went down his throat, but he wasn’t in the mood of getting drunk and make a fool out of himself… Unlike his brother, who had found the Connemara and Kilbeggan. This was going to be a long night, he thought and he poured another glass to bring to his mother.

“Oh, thank you,” Rosalina took the offered glass from him and patted his cheek, “you’re such a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Mother, I am _not_ one of your dogs,” he complained loudly and stepped out of her reach. Their relationship was finnicky, to put it bluntly. Officially she was loving, almost overbearing. Privately, she was somewhat absent and more interested in her own whims. Unless said whims involved her sons, let’s just say, that it wasn’t Robbie’s idea to take up fine arts, or that Glanni was fluent in over six languages.

“So you keep saying, darling. Tell me Robbie, what do you think of these meetings,” she said and took his arm, trying to get him involved in the conversation with her gaggle of associates again.

“These diplomatic meets are a farce,” he hissed.

“Don’t be a mood killer, dear.”

“Oh yeah? Besides that neither ours, or the Seelie court’s royal members has shown up and only sent low tier diplomats? Has anyone else noticed that the _Mikumwesuk_ are mysteriously absent?”

Their company, uncomfortable with Robbie’s bluntness and the direction their conversation was heading, silenced and shared uneasy looks.

“That’s… quite an unique take on it,” an older man said, while another companion, a woman of oriental descent, nodded her head to concur the statement, the peacock feathers in her ridiculous whimsey hat bounced with the motion.

“Robbie,” his mother warned him. But, he continued regardless.

“Everyone is going on about Seelie this, Unseelie that, but let’s face it. It was never _our_ land to begin with.” He took a swig of his drink and smacked his lips. “We’re no better than the humans. I should know, I live amongst them. My bet is that their tribes weren’t even invited. Imagine the outrage if a Mikumwess had a say in the matter?”

“Don’t stir trouble where you can’t win,” she chided him lowly, her grip on his arm hard enough to bruise.

“I’m not looking to win. I’m merely stating facts,” Robbie said dryly and finished what was left in his glass.

Rosalina massaged her temple with a finely manicured hand, “I cannot take you anywhere, can I?”

Robbie only smirked down at her. If she dragged him all the way out here to play nice with the court faes, then he would not make it easy for her.

She sighed in defeat, “where’s your brother?”

“Mr. Silver Tongue is horking down on the buffet, do you want me to fetch him?”

“Do be a dear and do so.”

“I say, I never expected your son of being a _native sympathizer_ , Rosalina,” he heard one of Rosalina’s company say, some old harpy, he didn’t look. “It’s rather odd. Seeing as the Unseelie and, you personally, own land in those regions.”

This was why no one favoured Robbie’s input.

 

He could feel his mother’s gaze burn a hole in the back of his skull. Good.

 

“What did you do?” Glanni asked him when Robbie found him and interrupted his attempt of wooing one of the Connacht. A tall lithe fae in blue. It wasn’t Robbie’s place to question Glanni’s tastes, at least he wasn’t going on about the damn elf that drove him off decades ago.

“Nothing, just making sure that I’m not getting dragged into political nonsense again,” he grinned.

“Stop undermining our standings, please.”

“You sound like mother, go play footsies with her gang, bring your date with you.”

Glanni sneered, but did offer his arm to the fae by his side and walked off to salvage the situation.

With a heavy sigh and a refilled glass, he positioned himself by the edge of the different groups. Standing by a rather impressive statue of black marble depicting a strapping young man in nothing but his birthday suit and vines snaking their way up his thighs. Some import from elsewhere he figured from first glance, probably Italian.

“Come here often?” he joked up at it before he turned back to his people watching.

The sound of children’s giggling could be heard again. Dear lord, was there no one to supervise them?

He idly watched the different cliques of fae. There was a mixture of the different colors and banners of their own, along with the Seelie’s crisp ones, a few of the Huldu and a whole lot of their host’s banner of dark blue.

What a farce. The real diplomatic meeting took place somewhere in the back rooms of Cnoc Meadha while the rest of the guests wasted time here. He could have been snug in his arm chair back at home right about now, watching infomercials and eating comfort food. Ugh, the things he did for family…

His musings stopped with the ear-splitting screech of stone breaking up from the statue he was standing beneath. Its shadow grew over him.

 

“You got to be kidding me.”

 

* * *

 

Without the casing, the crystal’s alarm of danger was muted and felt more as a pulse through Sportacus’ chest. Both Íþróttaálfurinn and he looked up in unison in search of the source of peril.

Across the vast room he spotted the movements of one of the great statues and heard the crack of its marble giving way at its base.

“Someone’s in trouble,” he muttered to himself and dashed, to save whoever was at the foot of the statue. His cousin followed closely behind, but Sportacus was the closest of the two of them to the collapsing structure.

He vaulted over some of the guests in the way, earning him cries of protests, and zig zagged through the crowd. Trying to make way past them as fast as he could and for what his formal clothes allowed him.

It was Robbie, why was he not surprised? He tackled him to the ground, catching him around his chest and pushed him further away from harm’s way before he turned to block the falling structure.

He didn’t have time to properly catch the falling statue and was forced to block it with his left arm. The blow jolted all the way up to his shoulder and momentarily numbed his arm as he let out a pained grunt, before he could steady it with his right hand and redirect it to land on the floor next to them, the weight of it forcing him down on one knee. Sportacus was glad that he had decided to wear his bracers underneath his dress coat, or the impact would surely have shattered his bone, not that this wouldn’t leave an impressive mark.

The culprit behind the crumbling statue stuck their head out from behind the rubble. A small child, with golden curls framing its cherubic face and he caught the sight of translucence wings fluttering from its back. It covered its mouth and giggled. Where was its guardians?!

“I hate children,” Robbie spat from behind him after coughing and gingerly clutching his chest from where Sportacus’ had gripped him.

“They don’t know better,” he huffed and dusted himself off. People were too fast in judging the actions of small children, when, in his opinion, it was the grownups duty to watch over and teach them right from wrong.

“Did I ask you?” he sneered.

 _'You_ _’re welcome,'_ Sportacus thought.

“I apologize my colleague’s indiscretion,” Íþróttaálfurinn jumped in, along with what looked like an older relative, or caretaker, who caught the child to drag it away by the ear, its small wings flapping angrily at the harsh treatment.

“That’s more like it,” Robbie muttered at the sight.

“Are you alright?” Íþróttaálfurinn asked and surveyed the scene.

“Just dandy. I only got nearly decimated.”

If Robbie was feeling well enough to start throwing around his sarcasm high and low, then he was indeed, _dandy_.

Without thinking, Sportacus offered his hand down to Robbie.

Robbie in turn looked at the offered appendage like it was a personal insult and swatted it away with a scoff and got to his feet on his own. Sportacus spotted neat sandals underneath the dress, before Robbie got to his full height again and stared him down.

Well, so much for going unnoticed by Robbie. This would be fun to explain. ‘ _Hey, so you_ _’re here as well? Why, yes I_ _’m a fae too._ ’

Robbie couldn’t use this knowledge against him, if Robbie was a faery too, then he had no grounds on using this to drive Sportacus out of LazyTown, except Robbie seemed to pass for human without problem or use of glamours. He didn’t see any wings procuring from the taller man’s exposed naked back where a fine golden chain was holding the back of the dress up.

Said tall man was glowering at him, before he spoke again.

“Not that I’m grateful or anything, don’t get any ideas here. But, what’s your name?”

 

Sportacus’ pre-prepared speech died in his throat.

So, Robbie didn’t recognize him?

 

An idea started to form in his mind. Robbie was always messing with him in his disguises. It would be fun to pull one on Robbie for a change and let the self-proclaimed _Master of Disguise_ have a taste of his own medicine. It was all in good-natured fun, of course.

“Hello? I know you speak English,” he said again irritably.

_Yes, why not?_ he finally decided.

 

“Tíu,” he introduced himself and gave a small bow. It wasn’t a lie, that was his formal title. Number Ten; _N_ _úmer T_ _íu_.

Íþróttaálfurinn gave them an inquiring look from behind Robbie’s back while he moved the fallen statue away as the palace’s staff swarmed them to clean up.

Robbie tilted his head to the side, sizing him up. “Have we met before? Your ghastly moustache… Seems awfully familiar.”

His mouth tugged into a small smile at that. “I do not frequent these events unless I really have to.” Another dismissive answer. Sportacus was a horrible liar, but he could try redirection. They had never met in this fashion before.

“Oh hell, not _you_ ,” a sneer brought their attention away from each other and up towards the stairs.

His colleague straightened up from his work and glowered right back at the emerging strange man clad in the feather cloak. “Glanni,” he said evenly.

“I should have known that you wretched sports elves would cause an issue, sooner or later.”

Íþróttaálfurinn didn’t say anything back, but Sportacus could see him working his jaw behind his mask.

With one last dirty look in Íþróttaálfurinn’s direction he turned to Robbie. “Robbie,” the man named Glanni tapped Robbie’s naked shoulder, “don’t bother with these elven guards. They’re a dull bunch most of the time anyway. Mother wants to have a look at you after that nasty fall.” He glared over at Sportacus. Yes, Sportacus had in the heat of the moment pushed Robbie to the ground and out of the way, but it was favourable over the option of getting squished under the statue.

And he was stupid enough to voice so, “I pushed him. Would you have preferred if I hadn’t?” Sportacus crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yes,” Glanni growled.

He shrugged. “If you say so,”

The other scowled at him. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” His face one of innocence beneath his mask.

Glanni bared teeth at him and was about to say something when Robbie intervened with a hurried, “okay, I think that’s enough. Glanni take me to mother, so she may properly fuss over me and fill up her quota of maternal behaviour for the next year to come,” and was the one to drag the furious man away.

Íþróttaálfurinn didn’t look all too pleased with Sportacus either and they had attracted a crowd of curious onlookers.

 

“What on earth has gotten into you, picking a fight with the Unseelie?” Íþróttaálfurinn hissed when they’d gotten a safe distance away. “This isn’t like you.”

“It’s Robbie, he’s harmless… More or less,” he added.

“His _family_ isn’t.” That thought hadn’t registered with Sportacus. “And neither is the diplomat,” he sighed dejectedly.

Contrary to popular belief, their diplomat wasn’t an elf, but a second-generation dwarf from Norway. The short man reached up to about Sportacus’ navel, yet somehow managed to ooze an air of dominance and valour. Not to sound prejudiced, but part of Sportacus suspected that it was the man’s nature of strong headedness and relentless determination that had given him his long streak of successful negotiations thus far.

As the other representatives from Iceland his face was obscured by a mask, but unlike their Venetian ones, he bore a Viking mask, staying true to his roots. It worked very well as an intimidation tactic too, he would have to admit.

For his short stature his voice carried strong. “What the blazes do you think you’re doing?” he said.

“I-”

“No, spare me your apologies. You Sports elves, what am I to do with you? Don’t answer that. Saving the faery was all fine, nothing more than expected of you, but do not, and I mean it, _do not_ antagonize the Glæpur’s. They have a major role in the negotiations because of their own claim of land in the North-eastern parts of North America.”

The look Íþróttaálfurinn gave him was pure, ‘ _I told you so_ ’.  

“I understand.”

“Do you have any idea how far back you have set my work?”

“No.”

“No, of course you don’t,” he sniffed. “I suggest you either make amends, or stay as far away from them as you can.”

That Sportacus’ could work with.

 

“That went better than expected,” his cousin said after the diplomat had left. “And no, he is not all bark no bite. I wrestled him once,” he finished and pushed a glass in his hand.

“You know I can’t-”

“It’s nectar water. No stronger than deluded Crowberry wine. I’m not trying to get you tipsy or into a meltdown, we’re still on the job. But, just having something to hold in your hand might be helpful.”

“Thank you.”

“So, you want to tell me what’s up with you and the youngest Glæpur?” Íþróttaálfurinn asked and polished one of the golden apples from the buffet, before he tore it into two even pieces and offered one to Sportacus.

“Nothing,” he said and took the offered half.

His cousin gave him a disbelieving look from behind his mask.

“I mean it,” he sighed and bit down on the piece of apple, it’s crisp texture and sweetness had him pause just to savour the taste. “I’ve tried to reach out to him, offering nothing, but friendship and well-meaning.”

“But?”

“He’s set in his ways, I’m afraid. I didn’t even know he was a fae until he arrived here.” He gave his cousin a pointed look. “That older Glæpur seems to have it out for you.”

“I caught him red-handed taking over a town and using the residents for his own gain,” he replied and lifted his mask to eat from his half of the apple. “You know, just doing my job.”

Sportacus hummed and took another bite. “He’s sore about that?”

“You have no idea,” Íþróttaálfurinn snickered.

“Aren’t you worried that he’ll, you know-?”

“Not really, he’s had ample opportunities. Glanni seems to have simmered down a bit lately, could be because he’s realizing he’s getting older. I don’t know.” He shrugged, “you know what they say; _when the devil grows old, he grows a conscious_.”

“That doesn’t translate the same into English, you know?”

“Oh?”

“Their version is that _he turns hermit_.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Sportacus shook his head and smiled,” I know.”

They joined their entourage, ignoring the whispers behind hands and fans by the other guests.

Court faes had too little practical things to do.

 

* * *

 

His mother’s fussing over him was enough to last into the next decade. And he’d barely gotten out of her manicured claws just as soon as Glanni sunk his not-so-finely-tended-to ones into him.

“Nice work, idiot. Barely two hours and you’ve already managed to have an attempt on your life,” Glanni seethed at him.

“I’ve had worse from younger tots.”

“Yes, because a small Sidhe not even old enough to use its wings could surely topple over a statue of that size.”

“Now you’re being paranoid.”

“Am I? _Am_ _I?!_ ” Glanni’s eye was twitching and the contents of his new glass in his hand spilled over in his agitated thrashing.

“This isn’t about me, is it?”

“Oh. Ohohoho, it very much is.” He leaned in, his breath reeking of alcohol, “I heard that you’d been spouting nonsense of who has the rightful claim to the land.”

“And, so what?”

“So what? For fu-! Listen, that’s a _very_ unpopular opinion. Now, I don’t trust the Seelie any more than I can throw a giant, but you’ve gone and become a liability for the Unseelie court as well.”

Robbie’s blood ran cold at the implications. “Crap.”

“To put it mildly, yes. I hate to say it, but you were lucky that the Huldufólk were here to save your hide. Their numbered champions are notorious well-doers and those stupid crystals are probably the only thing that saved you from a world of pain.”

“Wait,” Robbie blinked, “crystals?”

“Yes. The Sidhe here are obsessed with deers and the Huldu have the hots for crystals. Don’t ask me why.” Glanni stared him in the eye. “What just happened was probably a warning and with the champions running around the place you’re fairly safe, but if you continue like this, you’ll have more to worry about than pissing off some pompous upper cruster.”

Robbie nodded dumbly. He had, narrowly so, avoided being the poor sod ending up stone cold in a ditch it would seem. “I think I need some space,” he said.

“Don’t stray too far.”

He only waved his arm in vague affirmation and trudged away. He went for the buffet for a new piece of cake to comfort himself with and grabbed another glass from one of the waiters as he passed by. Robbie had already made a fool of himself, he might as well check off the rest of his list of ill-advised decisions.

This was an absolute joke. Well, if you didn’t like what he thought, _then maybe you shouldn_ _’t ask him!_ Of course Robbie would cause discordance in his wake. He was a Glæpur, an up to no good _trickster_ with nothing to gain, literally the last person you wanted around for these kinds of things, just as little as he wanted to be part of it.

No, he preferred his life out on the country side. Call him old fashioned, but there was nothing wrong with the simple life of getting back at the townspeople that dared to disturb him or his property and try to chase off the latest hero with schemes and wagers. It was in his nature after all… Or, so they said. Even if he admittedly had a soft spot for the children of _his_ town and had yet not been able to get rid of that outrageously soft-hearted Sportacus, who he couldn’t even on a good day explain how he felt about. One part of him wanted his approval and affection for who _he_ was, and the other wishing to chuck him off the face of the planet. Stupid Sportacus, who had everyone charmed since day one, including Robbie, ugh. Maybe Glanni was right, maybe he was obsessing over the hero.

He stabbed his slice of cake and brought a bit to his mouth. The taste didn’t bring him the same feeling of contentment that it previously had and he sighed in frustration, but ate it all non-the-less, more out of spite than actually enjoying and savouring it. He should look up on his mother, he shouldn’t stray so far away on his own without company in case his brother’s paranoia wasn’t completely unfounded.

He couldn’t see them anywhere, ‘ _gee thanks for telling me you left,_ ’ he thought and followed the sound of music coming from the grand ballroom. If he didn’t find them per se, he was going to find a secluded nook or cranny and take a nap instead.

As he suspected, he located his mother amongst her peers by a balcony, Glanni standing by her side with another fae on his arm.

Robbie decided to sulk nearby, surrounded by people and far away from hulking statues or other overhanging structures threatening to turn him into a Robbie sized stain on the shimmering floor.

 

Well, someone seemed to enjoy the festivities at least, he noted sourly. The Huldufólk had taken to the dance floor and bullied the orchestra into playing something a little bit more contemporary. Their feet dancing over the floor in a flurry of what he supposed was some type of dance game filled with laughter and throwing each other. They had even managed to get a great deal of the other faes to join in on their, urk, _fun_.

It didn’t take long until he spotted the elves who had saved him earlier in the parlour, in the mash of dancing people. His eyes were drawn to look at their ascots, and there it was. Crystals in their brooches, one for each of them.

Sportacus had a crystal like that tucked inside that casing on his chest.

Speaking to the dark haired one of them would probably make Glanni blow a fuse, however that blond one that had introduced himself as, Tim? Tinnie? Whatever it was, he might be a little more lenient in answering his questions.

Besides, if it was true that the incident with the statue wasn’t purely a prank by a toddler gone awry, then it was strategically sound to be as close to the elves as he could.

He watched for a little longer and finally the blond one decided to take a break from the never-ending dancing and lean against one of the pillars with his arms crossed over his chest.

His feet carried him on their own accord it felt like. He could probably blame it on liquid courage later on.

The elf jumped in surprise when Robbie cleared his throat behind him and twirled around.

“Easy, tiger,” he said in surprise and took a step back. Boy, someone sure was jumpy.

“Sorry, you startled me,” the stranger said sheepishly and settled back against the pillar to watch over the crowd. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked, his cobalt blue eyes darted up to him. That shade of blue was downright unnatural.

“Not specifically.”

The elf nodded, then pursed his lips, seeming to think over something. His eyes flicked up to him again then up to a platform past the crowd of dancing guest. Robbie followed his gaze and saw that up there was where the negotiations were taking place.

“Is it really safe for them to do this out in the open?” Robbie asked, trying to initiate some sort of conversation before he could start grilling the man.

“It’s pretty safe,” he smiled. “Well,” the elf shrugged, “as safe as anywhere here, I suppose.”

“Especially with you lot around.”

“Sorry?”

“Eurmh, I mean, especially with you and your friend around.” He tried to make a quick save. “You were rather fast back there, though I think you need to work on your conduct.”

“Thank you and sorry about that. There wasn’t much time.”

“I get that. Well, I’m used to it anyway. Not a stranger to a little roughness,” he joked. The wide-eyed look on the shorter man’s face under the mask had him rethink his choice of words. Oups! Oh well, in for a penny. Robbie could do worse. He could’ve been accidently flirting with Sportacus. That idle thought had his mind careening, nope no nopedy nope, _not going there!_

The other turned to watch over the negotiations again, absently licking his lip.

That small act wasn’t really helping.

“I’m sorry,” he laughed lowly, “it’s just…” The elf continued, “I’m sorry if it seemed like I picked a fight with you and your family after the statue, it was not my intention, even if others think so.”

“Others?”

He nodded discreetly up towards the platform. By the edge of the group one of the Huldufólk’s representatives was glaring at the elf. The short man stuck out like a sore thumb among the rest of the Huldufólk with his archaic mask instead of the silly venetian ones. Robbie looked back at the elf by his side and up towards the platform. This could work to his advantage indeed.

“That’s your diplomat?”

“Yes.”

“You’re in trouble?”

“Maybe?” he answered and clasped the back of his neck in bashfulness. A good look for him, of what little he could see anyway.

Robbie grinned, “excellent. Would you like to get out of the fire?” He smiled up towards the dwarf and raised a hand at him in a silent greeting, acknowledging that he saw him as well and all was, relatively speaking, fine.

The diplomat gave them an incredulous look from behind his steel mask and shrugged to turn back to discuss whatever the royalties and negotiators discussed that was so damn important they had to throw a party.

He took him by the arm, noting that his forearm was hard and bulky under his grip. Was it splintered? “C’mon,” he urged him and wonder of wonders, the stranger followed.

 

* * *

 

Their diplomat wanted him to either make amends, or stay away from the Glæpurs. Since Robbie had approached him for whatever reason, he might as well go along with the first option. Maybe Robbie had figured out who he was. Who knew, curiosity incited him to follow Robbie’s lead. 

Sportacus cast his cousin one glance, he had seen them as well and nodded, he’d take his point instead and left the dance to oversee their queen’s wellbeing. “I… Thank you?” he said and looked back up at the taller man.

“Don’t thank me just yet, Tinny,” Robbie said cryptically.

“Tíu,” he corrected.

Robbie shrugged. “Eh, close enough.” And continued to pull him by his forearm. Sportacus tried to bite back a hiss, as a spike of pain shot up through his limb, but was too late to mute it. He hadn’t broken anything, but he was _sore_. Robbie froze, eyes widening, his mouth formed a surprised ‘ _o_ ’. His gaze flicked down to his hand gripping Sportacus’ arm and switched his grip from it to around his back instead. “You’re hurt,” he stated quiet enough so that only Sportacus could hear him.

“A bruise,” Sportacus answered. He could not survey the damage properly yet, not until this was over with at least.

Robbie took him to a secluded alcove in the ballroom where benches framed the incurve and filled with lush embroided pillows.

“Sit,” he said to him. The demanding tone was something he was more used to hearing from Robbie.

He complied, giving him a lopsided smile as he did so. Robbie seated himself in front of him and fluffed some of the pillows to accommodate him more comfortably.

“Do you drink?” he asked him.

“Not really, I’ve tasted the spiced nectar, but, no,” he replied and scrunched up his face. Sportacus had abandoned the glass he’d been given after only one sip. He’d never understood the appeal anyway, and had taken another one of those golden apples instead.

Robbie hummed and sipped on the last remains of his own glass. Nursing it in his hands as one of his gloved hands idly tapped the side of it in a slow rhythm.

This evening was a strange one. Finding out that Robbie wasn’t human? That had been baffling. Saving Robbie? Not so much, it was, more or less, standard procedure by now. Sitting close like this, fumbling with their words, under the deception of not knowing each other? Very, _very_ weird.

“May I ask something?” he started, since Robbie had gone awfully quiet.

“That depends, but shoot.”

“Why isn’t your king here?”

Robbie scoffed, “way to start small talk. How should I know? Why isn’t the queen of the Seelie here, for that matter? They probably had the wits about them to stay put and not waste time on this drivel.” Robbie fell silent again, but kept worrying his lip and his tell-tale twitch of his nose was a bad sign.

It wasn’t his place to pry. Not in court business, anyway. He had joined Robbie because he was more curious about the man himself. He’d obviously had had something on his mind when he'd dragged him with him.

“I’d very much like to talk about something else,” Robbie announced. “That brooch of yours, for example…”

“Yes?”

“I’ve seen something similar to it before.”

 

So _that_ _’s_ what this was all about.

 

Sportacus leaned back against his own cushions on his end of the alcove and smirked. “Oh? Where, may I ask?” He blinked innocently. He had to admit, it was a bit fun to string Robbie along like this.

Robbie worked his jaw. “A bleeding heart in my hometown, who fancies himself a hero. He has a crystal very similar to _that one_ ,” Robbie said and pointed to the crystal pinned to his ascot, “I’ve… Been suspecting for a while that he’s one of _your_ people.”

Sportacus froze. Robbie… Had suspected that he was an elf? “Well, you _might_ be right.”

“I knew it!” he leaned forward and raised a fist in triumph.

“But, it might also be a human gifted with one of our crystals.” Sportacus continued. The look on Robbie’s face was priceless as it shifted from glee to frustration. However, his next choice of words soured the moment for Sportacus.

“Oh, c’mon! Sure, the moron is proof enough that you hand out these noisy rocks like participation trophies, but I don’t buy it. There’s no way that that freak is human.”

Moron? Participation trophies? _Freak?!_  Wow, thanks, Robbie. He knew full well that there wasn’t much love lost between them. But, that was uncalled for. “I _earned_ my crystal,” he growled and stood up, effectively towering over the other man, “and what do you mean by freak?”

The warning tone in his voice had Robbie jolt. “I, uhm, I, I’m sorry?”

The fun was since long over. He scoffed and stepped away to get back to his own company. Revealing his identity just out of spite crossed his mind, but, no, he wasn’t _that_ petty.

“Wait,” a hand grasped his uninjured arm.

Sportacus spun around, eyeing the man holding his wrist. Robbie looked up at him, hesitating, his gaze flickered to the side before he took a shaky breath and spoke again.

“It’s a… _Personal_ matter and I let it get the better of me. I ap, I, I _apologize_ if I offended you.” he forced out and then promptly ducked his head to hide his nervous tic.

An honest apology, _from Robbie?_  The evening kept getting stranger and stranger. But, Sportacus wasn’t one to hold grudges. “He must really get under your skin,” he said and sat back down again.

“You have no idea,” Robbie laughed under his breath. “You somehow reminded me of him and I… It doesn’t matter.”

“No, do go on,” he coaxed him, “how do I remind you of this strange man?”

“Apart from saving me from my usual misfortune? The moustache, crystal and whatnot?”

Sportacus hands slowly rose to undo his mask. This was probably as good as any time to reveal his face and cut this farce short, before things got too awkward. He could just laugh it off that Robbie was right and end it at that.

“ _You_ _’re very handsome_.”

His hands froze halfway up and he dropped them back to his sides. “I… Oh.”

Robbie appeared as surprised by his admission as he himself was, before an ugly flush rose to his cheeks. “And there I’ve gone and messed up again. Forget I said anything.” Robbie grimaced and hid his face behind his hand.

“No, no, I’m flattered!” He could feel his own face grow hot. Robbie thought he was _handsome?!_  Someone must have put something in his food, surely.

“I should go find my brother… I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

“What kind of faery are you?” he blurted out.

Robbie arched an eyebrow at Sportacus’ equal blunder in etiquette and calmed a bit. “A Taffy fairy, of course,” he said in a lofty response, trying to regain some of his stature.

He levelled him with a look. “What if I didn’t believe you?”

“Among the Sidhe, I’m what some call a trickster,” Robbie admitted.

Sportacus pursed his lips. That… Made so much sense. “How does a trickster find his way into the court?” Sportacus remembered the diplomat’s claim of the Glæpurs owning land, but he’d rather hear it from Robbie himself.

“That’s entirely my family’s fault. The shoddy vulture looking man is my brother and my mother is somewhere out there greasing the wheels.”

“And you, specifically?”

“Me? I just want to go home, but I guess talking to a good-looking stranger isn’t such a bad way to spend my time.”

Sportacus swallowed hard. Were they… Were they flirting? Taking the mask off at this stage, or admitting his identity would be nothing short of humiliating, for the both of them.

Robbie settled back down among the plush pillows in the alcove. “My turn, how did an Icelandic elf get all the way to Ireland? You’re some sort of bodyguard? In that case, you’re doing a pretty bad job out of it.” He jabbed a thumb out over the floor. “Your boss is thataway.”

He snorted in amusement. Robbie was the one who had taken him away and out here in the first place. And, oh boy, how should he say this without letting too much slip? “I’m one of _the numbered_. We’re champions of our kind. And… We mostly look over and aid where we are needed. Tonight, it’s more about to put on a show, when I instead could be out there doing _something_.”

“Ooh, someone sounds bitter.” Robbie wiggled his eyebrows.

He smiled at the jab and let out a low chuckle. He did sound like it, didn’t he? He felt like a fish out of water. Among these people, in this place, where he was talking to Robbie like they were on friendly terms and not adversaries. “Not really, not now,” he winked and took Robbie’s since long empty glass out of his hands to settle it on a ledge by his head.

It was Robbie’s turn to look a little flustered. Oh no, they _were_ flirting!

He cleared his throat. “Robbie, was it?” He knew very well, but for the sake of keeping up appearance he couldn’t go right on about it. “Tell me a little of yourself.”

“My favourite subject, me!” Robbie grinned.

“Why is your name Rotten?”

“And not Glæpur? Power in names and yadda yadda, nah, it’s a taken name. It has a better ring to it than Robbie Glæpur does, doesn’t it? Besides, I’ve never been one to conform. I have a, what used to be at least, a quiet place where I have property. You know the classic thing. Terrorize the neighbours, a few wagers here and there, long naps underground.”

“The classic, huh?”

“I’ve heard of your people messing with road constructions, don’t get all high and mighty with me,” he sniffed, but started laughing again.

Sportacus liked the sound of Robbie’s laughter. Not a sinister one when he was up to no good, but, this, them together and Robbie smiling for real.

“And you then? You said you earned your noisy crystal. How?” Robbie nudged him. He had gotten closer to him on their seat and he could almost feel the heat radiating off him through the layers of his formal wear.

“Uhm,” he wetted his lips, “by training for years in Álfaborg and out in the harsh terrain of the inland. It’s hard, disciplinary, physically and mentally.”

“Mentally? So, you’re not just a pretty face under that silly mask?”

“The mask was not my idea,” Sportacus defended.

Robbie laughed again and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

 

The dancing games had stopped and the music had returned to its previous program of slower melodious pieces.

 

He didn’t know what came over him when he stood up and offered Robbie his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Robbie blinked. “Sorry, what?”

Sportacus answered truthfully, “you’re very beautiful in your gown. I’d like to have at least one dance with you.”

“I don’t do these dance games that you Huldufólk do.”

“A waltz then?” Dancing games involved switching partners and Sportacus had no intentions of dancing with someone else right now. It was stupid of him, a voice in the back of his head screamed. Robbie didn’t know it was him and he shouldn’t ask for more than he’d already been given under false pretence. Yet, he was still holding his hand out, hoping that Robbie would take it.

“I suppose one dance wouldn’t kill me.” Robbie shrugged. “But, shouldn’t you be by your queen’s side?”

“My crystal would alarm me if something was to happen. And as you said, you appear quite misfortunate.”

“Are you implying I should expect another piece of structure falling down on me. Again?”

“Is it a reoccurring thing?”

Robbie scoffed, “more often than you’d think.”

“Then, I’ll stay by your side for a little while longer,” he smiled.

 

To Sportacus’ surprise, Robbie smiled wide at him, took him by the hand and led him out on the ballroom floor without another word. Much more so when he put his hand in the small of his back and was the one to lead the dance.

It wasn’t a waltz, instead a slow foxtrot that allowed them to move smoothly with the music. Or, well, tried to move smoothly. Sportacus struggled with the rhythm sometimes.

“Have you actually ever done this before?” Robbie asked when Sportacus, not versed in being the passive role and, once again, got the steps mixed up. It could have been meant as a taunt, but the words lacked the usual edge to them.

“Sorry, I don’t get to do this often.”

“Relax and follow my lead,” he murmured into his ear before he straightened up again and tugged him back in the same rhythm of ‘ _slow, slow, quick, quick_ _’_ and Sportacus let himself do so.

This… Was nice.

One dance turned into two and then many more. He glanced over to the side where the company of Huldufólk had last been. Queen Hildur was immersed in conversation with her royal counterpart Oona under the watchful eye of Íþróttaálfurinn. No need to worry on that front. He turned his attention back to his dancing partner. Robbie was looking down at him, his pale grey-green eyes meeting his own and holding his gaze. Sportacus felt his mouth go dry and butterflies in his stomach. He had passed some sort of threshold and now there was no going back. He would be lying if he said that he’d never thought that Robbie was attractive, that he was attracted to him. This became blaringly obvious as they shared the same breath and moved across the dancefloor. Seeing Robbie in a different light, without looking at Sportacus with distain, but in wonder and a soft smile on his face. He drank it all in.

 

Robbie manoeuvred them to the far edge of the floor, until they stopped dancing completely and merely swayed slowly to the music.

 

Robbie tasted of violets. His thin lips slotted against his and he could not for the life of him hold back the groan rumbling in his chest. Robbie hummed back and tightened his hold around his middle.

 

“Robbie Rotten, there you are!” a woman somewhere cried.

 

Robbie pulled away. “Sorry,” he murmured before he pressed his lips against Sportacus’ one final time and stepped away, “thank you for the dance,” and like that, he was gone without a trace.

 

Sportacus stumbled back to Íþróttaálfurinn in a daze, not sure if it was brought on by sugar residue or the experience of the kiss itself. His cousin kept looking at him with wide eyes and shook his head slowly, whenever their gazes met.

He didn’t see Robbie for the rest of the evening and maybe that was for the better.

 

Íþróttaálfurinn wasn’t the only one who had witnessed what had happened. Far, _far_ from it.

The diplomat looked more than pleased, he was practically beaming, as he took off his mask to reveal an equally bearded face as the one portraited on the slate of metal, on their journey back to Álfaborg. “That did the trick. Save the faery in distress, dance the night away and a passionate kiss. The Connacht will be over the moon, literally, over this. They love a good old romantic show and the Unseelie are also known for being hopeless romantics.”

 

Sportacus didn’t dignify that with an answer.

 

They swore as a collective when Sportacus managed to get the dress coat off and roll up his sleeve.

Yup, that blow sure had left an impressive mark. “ _Wow!_ ”


	2. LazyTown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to point out and remind you of the rating of this fic and the tags. So, yeah... Sexual content and drowning. You have been warned.
> 
> This chapter was immensely blessed by [ghostofanonspast's](https://ghostofanonpast.tumblr.com/) [art](https://ghostofanonpast.tumblr.com/post/167052794628/robbie-found-dead-in-miami-aka-the-drowning/)!!!!

Robbie stared up at the clear blue sky over him, stretching languidly on the park bench he’d occupied for the past hours and twinned his fingers together on his stomach with a sigh. The thick foliage of the trees edging the park was starting to become more diverse in colours, it would soon be true fall in a few weeks or so he figured and closed his eyes. It was unusually warm for the season, but personally, he sure wasn’t complaining. The heatwave topside was a welcome change from the damp chill of his underground lair that managed to stay cool all year round. Going above ground was always a surprise, temperature-wise.

He’d managed to enjoy one whole day and was now on his second without Sportacus since he himself had returned from his little _outing_ two days ago.

 

That evening… Had been something extra, alright.

 

His heart beat a little faster at the memory, as he was overcome by a mixture of excitement and utter humiliation. He must have been really out of his mind. Good work there on bad decisions in an expeditious row; drank too much, accidentally chatted up and smooched a complete stranger… In front of everyone present! He would never, _ever_ , live that down. And he had a long list of disgracing moments behind him to compare with.

The temptation had been too great, and he felt now that he was in the full right to blame it on being under the influence. He thought of those electric blue eyes and that soft mouth, that taunt body against his…  And the guilt of knowing who it reminded him of.

He turned to lie on his stomach to let out a frustrated squeak into the fluffy orange pillow he had brought with him up above ground.

To quote his brother after the incident; ‘ _what the hell is wrong with you, Robbie?!_ _’_

What indeed. He had made himself scarce after that personal blunder and hid. The coward’s way of dealing with anything, his _Modus operandi_ when things became too much for him, too real. Glanni’s drunken paranoia be damned.

Not that Tíu had made any attempt to track him down afterwards either, so it was probably just a one off that they’d danced before Robbie had overstepped his boundaries. Though, the look in the elf’s eyes and that smile had been sign enough that his advances hadn’t been completely unwanted. That rumbling in his chest, their mouths working against each other’s and the tightened grip that had pulled him closer…

 

“Why are you blushing?” an adolescent voice asked mere feet away from him and he jolted in surprise. Effectively getting his long legs stuck in the railing and hitting the back of his calves, thus ultimately trapping himself to the bench.

Damn it, was school already over for the day? He glowered at the pigtailed girl that had come to bother him. “I am not!” he shot back.

“You sure are now!” Her grin was all teeth.

“Why you little-! I oughta-!”

“Hi, guys!” an upbeat tenor voice put an abrupt stop to Robbie’s tirade. For a moment there he thought he was going to have a haemorrhage as a direct result of one million thoughts and feelings brought on by that voice alone. His memory must be playing tricks on him, the two men even sounded alike!

At the very least the hero’s arrival got the little terror off his back as she bounced over to the blue clad man. “What happened to your arm?!” she asked.

His arm?

“Sportacus, are you alright?” Stephanie piped up from somewhere. Robbie could only view Sportacus from the chest and up by the band of adolescent admirers he had gathering around him, and he too was starting to become curious as well.

“Oh, this? Nothing really. Just a small scrape,” Sportacus smiled and shrugged.

“How did it happen? Did you get in trouble on your expedition?” The small chubby one of them gasped behind his hands, “was it a lion?”

“Whut?” Robbie gruffed in the background. That kid sure had imagination. He pushed himself up and rested on an elbow onto his side, to get a look at Sportacus and what all the ruckus was about.

“Were you saving a damsel in distress?” the youngest of them continued before Sportacus could either confirm or deny Ziggy’s wild imagery.

“Kinda?” Sportacus chuckled.

“No way! That’s so cool! A real damsel?”

“I…Yes, sort of, I guess.” His moustache did that strange little twitch when he tugged his lips into a wry smile.

“Eww, gross,” Trixie disagreed wholeheartedly, followed by sticking out her tongue in a grimace and pretending to gag.

Stephanie rebuked, “Trixie, don’t be mean.”

Pixel was fiddling with his tech, not looking up from his wrist as he added his thoughts on the subject, “yeah, besides, Sportacus saves people all the time.” He looked up. “The bandage part is new though.”

Robbie now craned his neck in a painful angle to get a better look and confirmed that he had a gauze wrapped over his forearm from his wrist up to his elbow. Yet the man insisted on wearing his bracer on top of it, so it couldn’t be _that_ bad.

Sportacus’ wry expression turned sheepish at Pixel’s remark.

 

As it would have it for the attention span of the six to eight-year-olds, they were content with having their beloved hero back and Ziggy started egging the rest of them on to go play again.

“We can have an expedition of our own, but in the jungle!” he exclaimed, “Trixie can be the lion!”

“No, _I_ am the lion,” Stingy protested.

“Guys,” Stephanie broke them up, “we could have two lions!”

“But, that role is _mine!_ ” the brat exclaimed in displeasure.

“A lion and a tiger?” she suggested.

That went well with Trixie apparently, as she exclaimed, “yeah! I’m the tiger,” she hunched her shoulders and stalked over to Ziggy, “and I’m gonna eat ya!”

With high pitched shrieks and giggles they ran off to play pretend. Robbie was hoping that they wouldn’t bring out their amateur animal outfits. This day was already ruined, he didn’t need a repeat of what happened _the last time_.

 

Sportacus’ gaze followed them with a fond smile on his face and his hands on his hips. Ever so stoic. If, no scratch that, _when_ Milford decided to erect a statue of the irritating hero, it would be the spitting image of what he was looking up at this very moment. Sportacus didn’t seem to have noticed him just yet…

There was still time for him to escape unscathed.

“Hi there, Robbie!”

 

Or not.

 

Sportacus’ face split into an even wider grin at the sight of him, burning like a thousand suns.

And like staring at the sun, he squinted his eyes in displeasure and looked pointedly away from it. “Sportaflop,” he grunted out in acknowledgement and laid back down, and sneered, “what do _you_ want?”

The smile faltered a little, but returned back soon enough. “Me?” he said. “Nothing, I was just wondering how things have been while I was away.”

“It was _pleasant_. The best days of my life in fact. Almost as before you and your flying eyesore first turned up,” he scoffed. “Now, if you excuse me. I must be on my way. Somewhere quiet, somewhere _without you_.” Robbie stalked away with his fluffy pillow secured under his arm. He had been harsher than usual and for what was called for. Sportacus had only asked him a simple question. Robbie did try to be civil during their brief interactions, but this time, fuelled by loathing and nerves, he’d lashed out and taken out his frustration and shifted it onto the source of it, _him_. He stopped in his tracks and asked over his shoulder, “what happened to your arm? Did you trip over yourself, or something?”

“No,” the hero adjusted the bracer on top of it, “it happened pretty much the way Ziggy thought.” He grinned up at Robbie. “Except for the lion,” he added with a wink.

“Hmpfh!” he sniffed. “I agree with Icky. Gag me with a spoon.” And he continued back to his lair.

 

Maybe he should try Primal Scream therapy?

 

Heaven knew that he had a lot of tension to let out.

 

Robbie closed the door hatch with an audible clang and let go of the railing to slide down the shaft, fully expecting his trusty armchair to catch him at the bottom and soften the impact.

Well down and haphazardly draped over the chair he carried on with his lament and muttered for himself, “so much for that. I bet that he’s all too eager to catch up and play silly noisy strenuous games. And who is it, that must suffer the noise pollution you might ask? Me! That’s who!” He crossed his arms and pouted. “Stupid elf.” Okay, it wasn’t proven that he was an elf. Tíu could be right and it was a human so irritating and extraordinary that they had felt obliged to give him a crystal and title. “Stupid Sportacus, the _honourably_ elf,” he said out loud instead. “Yes, until proven otherwise.”

He could always ask him. Except, Robbie couldn’t carry a full conversation with the town’s hero for two reasons. One; he never stood still long enough! And second…Robbie didn’t have the guts, and he’d probably say something offensive or tactless and Sportacus would clam up. He had that effect on people when he wasn’t playing out a persona.

He couldn’t explain how he felt about the hero on a good day and today was most certainly not a good one. How could someone get under his skin this much by existing?

Oh, he knew damn well that the hero was easy on the eyes. But, that was his _only_ saving grace, he told himself. Several times a day. The rest was hippety hoppity everywhere at breakneck speed, encouraging the children to be rowdy and eat disgusting Sportscandy, along with his foolish altruism and patience. That the kindness extended to Robbie as well was proof enough how dim the man was. He had done nothing to deserve any of it.

The noise of laughter and stomping from above ground filled the cavernous room and he hid his face behind the pillow in exasperation.

 

It didn’t get better throughout the day, even long after the ruckus from above had quieted down, signalling the end of the day, he was still on edge and agitated.

He was pacing around in circles, clutching a mug in his hand. “Why can’t I relax?!” Robbie counted on his fingers. “I’ve tried watching boring debates, I’ve snuggled into my blanket, I turned the lights down.” He swung the empty mug high. “I’ve even tried hot cocoa!” he cried out and threw it over his shoulder, and dragged his hands over his face. The china broke somewhere behind him, he let out a low groan.

 

He looked downwards, well, there was one thing that he hadn’t tried yet.

 

It had been a while after all, maybe it was time to practice a little real selfcare.  

Getting in the mood didn’t take long, but there was still something lacking…

He never did imagine anything exact whenever he did this. He’d heard of people who couldn’t get off without some elaborate erotic fantasy playing out in their minds. He always ended up getting distracted. Usually an image of someone conveniently attractive did it. And never someone he knew. That one was a firm _no_. However… Today, he found it difficult to get where he wanted, despite the built up and frustration. He threw his head back against the backrest and grit his teeth in irritation. Fine, _fine_ , he gave in.

It wasn’t as much an imagined plot or anything, honestly it was more like snippets and impressions of what he would have liked. Why fight it? His brain, and loins, were dead set on bringing him back in time. Strong steadfast hands, a chiselled jawline with a pretty mouth. That was more like it, and he settled back, letting his head lull back with a sigh. Tíu had tasted sweet and fruity on his tongue and he had been quick to reciprocate.

He imagined what if he’d ignored the call for him, if he hadn’t run off to hide away the rest of the night, if he’d stayed. That they then would’ve found another secluded nook where they could continue in a more private setting. It escalated quickly from there and his body responded to the developing fantasy. Strong hands holding his bare skin under the gown against a wall, lifting him to spread his legs. Yes, that was a good image. That trimmed waist under the dress coat pressing against him and panting as the man pulled up his dress further, and Robbie hooked his legs around him to bring him even closer, the elf rubbing the front of his trousers against him and undid his belt with rough jerky pulls. Rutting against each other, their members hidden under the silky garment. Blue eyes staring into his own, blown wide with lust, the tickling of his moustache against his cheek accompanying every deep sloppy kiss, and Robbie would tangle his hand in that thick mane of caramel blond and pull.

It still wasn’t enough.

Robbie didn’t know why he tried so hard to imagine what the face under the mask looked like, as if it was the last missing piece to fully send him over the edge.

The mysterious eluding features of Tíu slowly changed into another man’s that he knew very well. Someone with similar visible ones. He covered his mouth to stifle a moan as his tempo increased. It was Sportacus now frotting up against him. Keeping Robbie pinned against the wall behind him and with that tenor voice cracking between desperate gasps.

He was in no way ready for his forceful reaction. Nor was he sure which of the men’s name he cried out as he came.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus had retired to his airship and supervised the quiet little town from above while eating a light dinner. The evaporative system was humming softly, keeping his quarters comfortably cool. Judging by his calendar it was closer to fall than late summer, but they were experiencing an Indian Summer, with a final heatwave rolling in over this region. He had a light sheen of moisture over his brow from the activities outdoors as he’d join the children’s games. It was a bit too hot for his liking, he was after all more used to a cooler climate, however he shouldn’t complain, everyone else seemed to have a great time. He wiped his brow and winced when he had used his left arm. Despite the wrapping, he kept forgetting to mind his injured arm.

The muscle contusion, also known as a bruise, was a thing of morbid beauty and covered the whole surface of Sportacus’ left posterior forearm.

By the time that they had surveyed the damage, it was too late to minimize it more than icing it and wrapping a cool compression around the arm in an attempt to decrease the swelling. He had planned to return immediately back to LazyTown, but his cousin had talked him into coming back with him to Álfaborg to have his arm checked up on. As it was now, he couldn’t help but idly pick on the ace wrap under his bracer in a vain attempt to make it more comfortable. It didn’t hurt as much anymore on contact, but it was still very sensitive and the stiffness, as well as the swelling, he felt was a tell-tale sign that he’d managed to bruise his Ulna bone too. Superficially, the centre of the damaged tissue had already started to take on a greenish hue, so it was healing as it should by elven standards, though the edges were still black and blue… Mostly black.

It could have been much worse, and he was once again grateful over his decision to wear his bracers under the stuffy formal wear.

As predicted, the children of the town had bombard him with questions on what had happened, and he was glad that he had the bruising hidden under wraps, or there would have been far more questions. At least Robbie hadn’t said anything about it, no more than his typical cynicism, or made the connection between the location of his injury and the blow sustained while saving him.

 

Robbie…

 

Sportacus had really gone and done it this time, hadn’t he?

 

He should have been honest from the very beginning and told him who he was when he had asked, to save, if not them both, then at least himself from the emotional aftermath.

For Robbie, it was probably nothing more than a decision based on the spiced nectar and the belief that they would never cross paths again, a quick kiss just for the sake of it.

For Sportacus however, it was a different story. He had made a conscious decision to dupe Robbie, to flirt and then kiss him right back. And being fully aware that he’d run into him again only days later.

He knew that Robbie didn’t like him, he’d been able to deal with it earlier, always had. Right up until they had shared that intimate moment. When Robbie had genuinely enjoyed his company, and had kissed him.

 

Because he thought that Sportacus was someone else.

 

He shouldn’t have approached him, not this soon after returning back to LazyTown. The man hated him, and their recent short interaction had, with brute force, brought that reminder straight back to him. The distain in his eyes had been back with gusto when they’d met each other by the park and his tone spilled like acid.

The recollection of the soft serene features from their meeting in Ireland was turning into a faint memory and it would stay that way, now that they were back in their usual roles.

 

Sure, Robbie had, in a sense, admitted that he thought of Sportacus as physically attractive, but that didn’t by any means mean that he actually _liked_ him as a _person_. Despite that he had already done what he could to befriend the loner. It was as he had told Íþróttaálfurinn; he’d tried to reach out to Robbie on several occasions, to help him feel included on his own terms, always happy to see him interacting with the rest of the town’s residents and children’s games, and sometimes, Sportacus could swear that he looked like he’d enjoyed himself. Right up until it turned out that his actions were nothing but a ruse to sabotage and get them to stop their activities. This shouldn’t be of such a surprise to him, as his cousin had pointed out.

Robbie was a trickster, more a _title_ than a specific type of ultranatural being. And Sportacus? He was a _sports_ elf. They were complete polar opposites. Something Robbie loved to point out, whether he truly knew what Sportacus was, or not.

 

Sportacus thoughts grew more dispirited at the notion.

 

A damsel in distress. Hah! What did you do when the damsel didn’t want saving? In fact, they would more willingly throw themselves at the dragon’s mercy, or based on Ziggy’s imaginary, the lion’s.

Rather than in the arms of the knight.

 

Sportacus couldn’t deny that the knowledge of it hurt more than the physical bruise did. But, like the bruise, it would fade away eventually, given time.

 

He shook his head. No, there was no use in dwelling on this. Life moved on and so would Sportacus. He would give Robbie some space, for both their sakes, and things would revert back to the usual schedule. With the other non-the wiser of what Sportacus had done.

Yes, that was what he was going to do, he decided and forced himself to smile, as he finished his meal and asked the Interface for a _real_ challenge this time. Something to occupy his mind with.

He went through challenge after challenge for the rest of the afternoon and evening. He only landed on his arm once and received a loud berating from the Virtual Intelligence of the ship. Whichever elf that had installed and programmed it sure had an interesting take on the combination of the words _moral_ and _support_ , it didn’t coddle him at least, and he had continued on to the next challenge with greater determination.

This carried on until not even the cooling system could keep him from nearly overheating and he had surrendered for a shower before he went to bed.

As usual he was out as a light a few minutes after his head touched the pillow and he succumbed to sleep.

 

The sound of birds in the foliage, and the crunching of twigs and dead leaves under his feet made him slowly aware of his surroundings. He was on a trail in a deciduous forest. The trees around him cast long shadows as the sun was slowly setting.

Forests were fascinating for him. Iceland’s own forests took up less than two percent of the island. This due to the harsh climate, glaciers and the humans’ infamous deforestation of what had once been. He took in the sight and revelled in it. There was a rustling of the wind in the aged trees and though Sportacus was no expert, he was sure he was surrounded by ash and maple. He looked in the direction that he was facing. The trail carried on deeper into the forest and he made the decision to see where it would take him.

The further he followed, the longer the shadows grew of the towering trees over him until the sun disappeared completely, and colours and sounds became muted. The leafy trees slowly were replaced by impossibly tall pine and fir trees, and the floor changed from leafy to green moss. Sportacus kicked and dribbled one of the many mixed cones littering his way, up till he accidentally kicked it away to the side and his gaze followed its arch to be swallowed up by the inky darkness just a meter away from the still dimly lit trail of a source he could not perceive.

A chill ran up his spine. It would be best not to deviate from the path he was on. He was sure he was nearing a grove or an opening of some kind, as he could make out a source of light far ahead of him.

 

It was neither.

 

“Oh, hello there,” he smiled in surprise.

A ball of cold light bobbed in the air, no bigger than a child’s fist, in front of him.

A Will-O-Wisp, those were rare, he’d seen some before from far away. These little spirits were sentient beings of the lower tier, if he remembered correctly, and liked marshes where they could thrive. This coniferous forest he’d now entered must be a wet area.

Being this close to one was even rarer and he couldn’t fight the allure to reach out for it.

He felt the barest of warmth on his fingertips, before it withdrew out of his grasp and zoomed irritably. “Oups,” he said sheepishly, “I’m sorry.” It floated up further ahead upon the trail.

Sportacus smiled. A way to light up his path was appreciated, and he followed the spirit.

He didn’t notice it at first, but the trees grew fewer and fewer around him, yet, no light or moon appeared above him. It was a solid dark grey and the birds had stopped their singing all together, nor was there any nocturnal critters he could pick up the sound of. All that filled his ears was the sound of crunching twigs under his feet and his own laboured breathing. The light bobbed ahead of him and he continued to follow it. Until it deviated.

He looked after it, the Will-O-Wisp floated to the side of the path, out to the mossy floor between the scraggly trees and he made pause.

His gaze turned back to the now darkened path, that he knew was safer, then back at the glowing ball of light. Following it out there could be dangerous, it was best to stay on the trail. He took one step further on the trodden ground and the spirit zoomed before him and back out to the side.

“Are you sure?” he asked it. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest like a cold heavy weight.

It remained silent.

He really shouldn’t follow it. Something in the back of his head tried to make itself heard, a warning, but it was muted out as well.

Before thinking and weighing in the risks of his actions, he stepped onto the soft damp moss, the Will-O-Wisp resumed to float away ahead of him and he followed it as a moth to its cold flame.

 

* * *

 

In desperate need of a distraction he started rummaging through his lair for, well, _anything_ really.

The attempt to unwind had backfired spectacularly.

After he’d come down from the height of his orgasm he was filled with nothing, but utter soul crushing guilt. And he felt dirty, the kind that would not go away with a shower, or bubble bath, or endless scrubbing. Robbie needed something to do with his hands. Needed to create, or deconstruct, he wasn’t picky on the details. Maybe something to drive Sportacus out of his town _forever_. No, not Sportacus, he needed to think about anyone _but_ Sportacus… Or Tíu, since those two somehow managed to go interchangeably in his tattered mind. One bringing up thoughts of the other.

This would not do at all.

Out of sight and out of mind behind a provisional wall, was an area of the underground bunker Robbie rarely used. The lair was bigger than what one person like him knew what to do with, most of the underground lair, that wasn’t the main area, turned into dumping zones where his old inventions and means of entertainment found themselves in sooner or later, not to speak of the magical build up in some of those heaps. He parted the obstruction and surveyed what he had lurking around there that he could distract himself with. He had made a half-arsed attempt at cleaning up that part of the lair some months ago, but had declared himself wiped out and in need of a well-earned break, after picking up the loose scraps and abandoned devices scattering the ground. That break had lasted for five months. Well, no time like the present. The reason he wanted to clear out that area, was so that he could… Good question… Install a new workbench? Maybe a lift for his heavier inventions and an oil pit? It wasn’t important, he was sure he’d find a new use for it when inspiration struck.

 

“Oh, Mr. Rotten, how low you have sunken,” he said to himself dejectedly as he began collecting new abandoned junk that had somehow found its way back there.

It wasn’t as bad as he had recalled it to be. Now all he had to deal with was a few crates and the floor would be clear.

He dragged them across the lair into another corner. It wasn’t an effective way to clear up the lair as a whole, seeing as he just moved the junk from one end to the other. However, that was a dilemma to deal with for some other day.

Readjusting his rolled-up sleeves, Robbie surveyed the last crate that he had left to deal with. He recalled vaguely that it was the crate that the insane Soccer-Bot had arrived in. He shivered at the memory. That was the trouble with technology and latent magic that gathered in his lair with him being its main source. You never knew when things would go sentient… And deranged on top of that. He’d had enough personal encounters of ‘ _the machine uprising_ ’ for his own liking.

The robot was disassembled somewhere, but he didn’t know what he’d put in the crate. Well, no matter. One push and he’d get enough force to push the huge thing to the other side where he wanted it.

 

Maybe, just, _maybe_ , he should have checked the contents of the crate before he charged it.

 

The wooden crate skidded away, making him flail after it in a stumbling momentum and he tumbled over it when it caught on a fold in the floor and faceplanted the ground on the other side. The crash echoed through the room and it sounded as if a second noise came from the main area in a tandem. Must be the echo bouncing back playing a trick on him. “Ouch, okay. That’s gonna hurt in the morning,” he groaned from his awkward position. “A slight miscalculation.” Robbie got up and patted off his aching back. “But, not a setback.” And he dragged the much lighter crate than he’d anticipated. Was there a draft, he wondered and rubbed his forearms.

 

Robbie discovered the actual setback to his previous plans. He had his fists on his hips and inspected the fold in the floor where the crate had gotten stuck. The flooring was almost indistinguishable from the rest, but he estimated that the rectangular area was nine by sixteen feet. There were slight grooves across the surface.

 

Oh, right.

This was rather unfortunate.

Robbie was reminded on why he hadn’t utilized this particular part of the floor now.

 

The pool.

 

He’d never used it, heck, Robbie didn’t even know why he had it in the first place. He wasn’t a good swimmer and it didn’t fulfill any alternate purpose. He located the control unit, visible now that all the crates were moved, by the wall in a circuit. Fiddling with it he dragged it by its cord in the rail up in the ceiling and pressed the switch to see what was underneath. With a soft humming the hydramatic system started up again after years of negligence and the sheet of metal folded up against its short side. The water below the withdrawing cover was dark and murky, and he was hit with a fetid smell.

“Irck.” The airtight seal must’ve kept the water from evaporating and helped creating its own ecosystem.

Well the pool wasn’t for swimming anyway and would never be so, he decided on the spot. He was about to press the switch and leave it be, but what would he do then after that? The thought of dragging all the crates back was out of the question and he’d be left to his agitated and confusing thoughts once again. He had wanted a distraction, and the universe had supplied him with one.

He could kill a couple of hours by skimming the surface with a net, he had a couple of those lying around and change the filter. And then dump a bucket of chlorine tablets and gallons upon gallons of pool shock. Now that he had the pool before him, the mystery of why he owned those two later mentioned items in the first place became clear, and why they were taking up space in the cupboard.

Yeah, that’d do it.

It was astonishing how little he knew or cared why he had certain things in his possession, he idly thought. He should do something about that. One day. And locate any sentient robots lurking about, he could swear that he felt eyes staring him down from some dark corner somewhere.

 

Bringing out the net never failed to entertain and skimming the surface had been almost redundant in the end, but pleasingly mind numbing enough. He returned shortly with the chemicals in hand. “Keep away from eyes, always add chemicals in water and never the other way around, blah blah blah,” he said and emptied the bucket of chlorine tablets straight into the water. Hmm, had that wire been there earlier? He felt that he should’ve noticed something like that. Oh well, it was attached to the cover, so it might be a part of the hydramatic system coming loose after he had put it in motion after years of neglect.

Good, that was that then. Robbie tossed the bucket away and dusted off his hands. He wasn’t in the mood to look up on the filter anymore, not without a change of clothes. Doing that would be, ugh, _industrious_. No, dumping things in and closing shop was more his thing. He looked at his clock, it was soon half past two, he turned on his heel to get the container of pool shock and then he’d call it a day. Turning his back on the pool he failed to spot the wiring coiled on the ground, snaking out of the water slowly. And stepped into one of its loops in his path.

The loop of the wire constricted around his ankle like a snare the very moment he did so. The hydramatic system began whirring and the cover unfurling. “Uh oh,” was all Robbie managed to utter before he fell and got dragged along the floor, screaming and trying to reach down to free his foot from its trap. It was to no avail, he braced his arms over the pool edge in one last attempt to stay over water before he submerged.

The water tasted bad and he instinctively tried to hold his breath as the wire brought him towards the bottom. Under water he could easier fold to get to his foot and tugged furiously on the snare around his ankle to little avail. Whatever light he had was quickly diminishing as the metal above him covered more and more of the surface. ‘ _Need to get out, need to get out!_ ’ kept repeating in spitfire through his head. With one final tug he managed to rip his shoe off by the slats and the wire along with it. The pain in his hands and ankle didn’t faze him, and he pushed off the tiles of the bottom, up towards where the surface was in the complete darkness.

 

Only to be met by a slate of cold metal.

 

He traced his hands over it, there was no fail-safe mechanism he could find in the pitch black and that his panic-addled mind could make out.

He was going to die down here. And no one would even know.

Robbie resorted to banging his hands against the cover in hysterics and trying to find any seam or weakness he could exploit. A red haze flickered in the edges of his visual field in lieu of tunnel vision, as he desperately clawed at the smooth surface between him and air.

His lungs were now burning from lack of oxygen, and he thrashed and beat his hands upwards until, against his own volition, his diaphragm tightened in reflex and he gasped for air that wasn’t there.

With one breath he filled his lungs with water.

The pain subsided and momentarily his head cleared, and he tried to get out with the last of his strength. The relief was fleeting however. Everything turned hazy and there was a ringing in his ears.

His hands brushed weakly against the cover of what officially was his watery tomb, and he slipped away with an odd calmness and sense of finality as he fell unconscious to the bottom.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus stumbled after the flickering ball of light, his legs felt like molasses and his usual nimbleness was lost in this strange bog that he’d delved deeper within as he chased the evading spirit. It bobbed irritably in the air then zoomed away just when he’d thought that he’d gotten close enough to catch it. “Wait!” he cried out after it in an attempt for it to wait up, but it did not heed him. They had diverted far from the trail now and he jumped between the pools of murky water, yet despite how hard he tried, he somehow always stumbled on a slippery stone or gnarly root in the dark and would often fall down into the icy cold slush clinging to him.

Logically, he knew that he should stop, that he should cease this fruitless chase. Still, he continued. For every time he fell he was renewed with determination. It was obsession and unhinged madness spurring him on by now. This wasn’t any longer about where the spirit was taking him, but about chasing and capturing the spirit itself.

To hell with anything else. He _needed_ that light!

Wherever the Will-O-Wisp went it took all light with it. Sportacus had looked up and stared into an empty starless void overhead and the impenetrable darkness hounded him from all sides as he stumbled on, licking at his heels. He could barely make out where he was putting his feet, and by making a miscalculation of his step he stumbled down to his knees and braced his hands under him in the shallow waters.

He saw his own reflection in the rippling water and he didn’t like what he saw.

Repulsed, he turned his gaze up towards his mark. The spirit had taken pity on him it would seem and it floated towards him in a lazy arch. Just close enough for him to leap. He drew one knee up under him and braced his feet in a starting position.

He leapt for it when its arch had brought it directly in front of him.

 

He had finally caught it! He held it caged in his hands, the warm buzz of it trapped within his palms hummed out over the bog. He sank back down onto his knees and laughed out in triumph, sounding wild and delirious, the echo of it getting eaten by the shadows.

Between his fingers, grimy and claw like, the light stuttered.

Sportacus blinked and clarity hit him through the crazed haze.

What on earth was he doing?! This was _wrong!_ Heavens, what was the matter with him?! He could’ve accidentally hurt it! The exhilarating feeling of catching the eluding light shifted into self-loathing.

He had to let it go. It should’ve been a simple decision, yet he found himself battling himself over it. Sportacus was unwilling to let it go, but he had absolutely no right in trapping the small spirit. On the other hand, if he released it, it would surely zoom away from him and everything would have been for nothing.

 

He made a decision.

 

Sportacus opened his clasped palms and looked down onto the ball of light nestled in his hands. “I’m truly sorry,” he said. As predicted the spirit zoomed away up into the air and out of his grasp again. It floated out over a dark pond where Sportacus could not follow. Not when he’d come to his senses again.

But, the temptation was still there lurking...

 

He got back up on his feet, ready to leave this mad quest behind. The ball grew in size, was it coming back towards him? The sound of squelching mud and the freezing sensation making its way up his legs made him aware that that was not the case.

He stared down and realized that he was still pursuing it, his feet moving on their own accord against his will, no matter how hard he tried to reverse and back out of the bank.

The muddy water was now halfway up his thighs. “What do you want?” he asked.

 

The Will-O-Wisp turned red.

 

“No…” he gasped in rising horror.

 

That wasn’t a Will-O-Wisp.

 

He’d only heard of these types of spirits in stories and recounting from other older elves that had been to the British Isles and especially around Scotland, but he knew in his bones what was flickering before him. _Mocking him_.

 

It was a Corpse Candle!

 

His head went underwater.

 

He woke up with a start in a cold sweat. The crystal blared in warning in its casing, its noise rising in a steady crescendo.

“Wha, what time is it?” Disoriented and shook by the dream, he scrambled out of bed, fighting off the sheets he’d managed to get his legs entangled in.

“Two-thirty-one, Sportacus,” the interface of the ship’s Virtual Intelligence informed him.

“Someone,” he gasped and finally got his bearings enough to collect the now screaming crystal, “is in _grave danger_.”

“But, Sportacus,” the ship’s interface protested, “it’s still too early for you to rise.”

He ignored it, there was no use in arguing with a computer, not now. “Door!” He didn’t need the telescope to know who was in peril. A quick glance down confirmed his hunch. The only light in the town was by the sparse streetlights. All the residences were dark and unlit, which meant that there was only one person who could be in need this late hour.

What had Robbie gone and done _this_ time?!

 

There was the possibility that he woke up the whole town with the crystal’s blaring when he made way down to the billboard that fronted the home of Robbie. That was only a fleeting notion in his head that he discarded.

The door hatch to the lair was open to Sportacus’ surprise and he stared down into the black maw. “Robbie!” he shouted down into it. There was no response. Not a good sign.

The insisting alarm of the crystal drove him to jump down without further ado and he shortly thereafter hit the bottom with a landing roll. The main area was lit only by the lamp near a faux fur armchair in screaming orange, and the dim light filtering through the skylights, which origin he did not question, there was no sign of Robbie however. He shouted out his name again, hoping for a response, maybe he’d gotten stuck in some machinery. His sensitive ears picked up the faintest of sounds and his attention was drawn to a section of the lair he hadn’t seen before. “Robbie? Is that you?” He stalked over there to look for him. It smelled of chlorine and he spotted a butterfly net and a container of what looked like concentrated water purifier abandoned on the floor, and the floor itself… Was wet? Water? But, where was its source and how? A memory from the nightmare hit him and made his mind reel. He paced the puddles and spun in place, spying for any trace of the missing man.

“Robbie? Can you hear me?” Still no answer. Was he at the wrong place? Had something happened to him topside and Sportacus had assumed incorrectly that Robbie would be in his lair? His worries got cut short, then multiplied, when he detected a thumping noise from under his feet.

He squatted and put the flat of his palm on the wet metallic floor. At closer look, Sportacus suddenly realised that this particular part of the flooring was slightly elevated from the rest of this level in a rectangular three by five meter area.

What was this?

A final faint thump, just below him, he could swear on his life that he heard the dragging of nails... Then it ceased.

Robbie?

His eyes widened in pure terror. This part of the floor was some sort of cover. And Robbie was trapped beneath it!  His head whipped around for some control or lever for the slate of metal, but he couldn’t see anything indicating that it controlled it, he had to try an _alternate_ route.

His hands trailed the seam around the outer edges, desperately trying to find some way to work his fingers in. Robbie was under there and he needed to get to him. _Now!_

The blaring noise stopped abruptly. Sportacus stumbled in his frenzied search. Usually it was an indication that whatever happened had passed or had been thwarted. But, this time, its implication was so much worse.

He finally found a clinch that he could work into and began tearing. With an ear-splitting screech of metal, he tore a hole and ripped off a large portion of the cover. The water was dark, but he spotted the shadow of a figure at the bottom and he dove.

Robbie was heavy and listless in his arms as he brought him to the surface. Getting him over the ledge and onto the floor was a struggle as he paddled and heaved the man up.

Scrabbling to his knees towards him, and looking Robbie over, he saw water running out of his mouth as he laid on his side in a small stream until it ceased. He turned the unconscious man onto his back and felt for a pulse, waited ten seconds, his heart wasn’t beating Sportacus realized with an icy cold hand gripping his own. Neither could he feel or hear breathing as he lowered his head to listen by his mouth. He took in the sight of the man beneath him. His usual pallor was stark white and his lips faint blue. He was pale as… Death…

 

 _No_ , _no, no, no, no!_

 

He got to work immediately. Sportacus tilted the man’s head back and steadied his chin with his fingers, covered his nose and breathed into him. Once, twice. Foul water came up as air went in, but not enough to revive him. He repeated the action, tasting more chlorine coming up. He placed his hands over Robbie’s sternum as he had been taught and started pumping in even intervals. He’d gotten to nineteen when Robbie started to cough violently and he turned him onto his side to let the water get out. Robbie curled into himself as he forcefully expelled the water from his lungs and then retched up what was in his stomach as well.

 

Sportacus was openly crying in relief as Robbie slumped down out cold, this time however, there was a steady rise and fall of his chest once again.

 

He curled down to rest his forehead against Robbie’s shoulder blade.

 

Robbie… He was alive. So far. Now he needed to keep him that way as well, for the next twelve to twenty-four hours. This was out of his expertise, but he couldn’t take him to a hospital. If humans saw his readings… No, it was out of the question.

Sportacus sat back, rubbed his face and his eyes that stung from the high rate of chemicals and to wipe away the traces of salt, and tried to plan out the following steps. First thing first, keep Robbie breathing. Then, find something to get him warmed up with.

 

* * *

 

A firm hand held him in place as he came to himself again. “Stay on your side,” a rough voice said from somewhere behind him. He’d been laid out on his side with his arm out in a ninety-degree angle and with the other hand tucked in under his head. It was uncomfortable.

“Sportacus?” he managed to cough out. Everything hurt, especially his chest, his eyes stung, and his mouth tasted of chlorine and bile.

“I’m here, Robbie. You had an accident. Stay in that position while I try to find a blanket, or something to warm you up with.” The other man’s voice was shaky and he was breathing heavy. Instinctively, Robbie tried to turn to look at him to see what the matter was, but the grip returned, this time painfully so and he winced.

“Sorry.” The hand eased up and he ran his thumb in soothing circles.

“What happened?” Last thing he could recall was thrashing underneath the cover of the pool.

“You nearly drowned. You…” He cut himself off with a shaky gasp. “Sorry, I…” Sportacus let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Robbie didn’t dare to try turning to look at the hero again. Was Sportacus… Crying? The other man gasped until his breathing levelled out. “It was a close call. Your heart stopped,” he said at last, almost whispering.

“I died?” Robbie couldn’t remember anything from that. No tunnel, no nothing.

“For a short while.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent. He was drenched and cold. The cool metal of the floor under him wasn’t helping and he shivered.

This brought Sportacus back into action. “I’ll get you a blanket, stay like that until I get back.”

“There’s one by the chair.”

“ _That_ is _not_ a blanket. You need something bigger than that.”

Robbie was going to respond to that, but he succumbed to a fit of couching that turned into retching.

Sportacus steadied him and rubbed a warm hand between his shoulders. When he was done he was pulled away from the small puddle of expelled water he’d created and back into a sitting position against Sportacus. He still hadn’t seen the other’s face, but he sounded as bad as he himself currently felt.

 

He surveyed his surroundings now that he was supported against the other man. “You ruined my pool cover,” he rasped when he saw the wrecked metal of the hydramatic system.

“It was the only way to get to you,” Sportacus murmured into the back of his head.

“There are controls hanging by it to the right.”

“I didn’t see any controls.”

Robbie was about to point out the yellow brick hanging in mid-air, you had to be blind to miss it. He stopped. The cable was there, but… The control unit was gone?! “What the hell?” he said under his breath.

He got distracted from the horrible realisation that it was cut off, when he felt hands working the buttons open of his west.

“We need to get you out of these.”

“Hey, Hey! Hands off! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Your clothes are soaked, you need to get them off, or you’ll going to get hypothermia.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” he snarled and struggled against him, “you _pervert!_ ”

“Robbie,” Sportacus took his wrists, “I respect your privacy, but if we don’t get you warmed up, you might go into shock.” The stern tone didn’t leave much room for negotiation.

“Can I at least undress myself?”

“Can you work the clasps?”

“Can I-? Of course I can!”

He could, to his humiliation, not. He reluctantly allowed Sportacus to work his belt buckle and his west open, but pushed his hands away to do the rest himself. The time it took was painstakingly slow, but he eventually managed to wrangle himself free from all, save for his boxers, which was cold and plastered against his groin. He curled into himself to keep some form of dignity, but Sportacus didn’t seem to care, as he lifted him up bridal style and strode over with him towards the fluffy armchair. Robbie finally got the chance to look at the hero. He was as soaked in his uniform as much as Robbie had been in his own clothes. His shoes making wet squeaky noises as he took him to the chair and gingerly placed him in it. In the light of the lamp, his face was stony and his eyes redrimmed. It could be from the chlorine in the water, or… No, it was definitely because of the water, anything else would’ve been ludicrous.

Robbie snatched the comfort blankie with the embroidered chicken and clutched it in his lap.

“Take your boxer off, and I’ll find at least a towel, you must have that here somewhere.”

He pulled a face. “Bathroom is to the right, behind the generator.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of it.

With a nod Sportacus dashed away. He heard the distant sound of running water as he slowly wiggled out of his soaked boxers, he had to admit that it felt good to be out of the cold clinging undergarment and he covered himself again with the small blanket, sinking into the soft faux fur and felt himself slipping away again.

 

He was rudely brought back to wakefulness by Sportacus jostling him. “Robbie, wake up. You can’t sleep, not yet.”

“Why not?” he groused. He was going to push him away but realised that he was snuggly wrapped in a large blanket. It was purple and orange, so it had to be his. Wait a minute! In order to make this blanket burrito, Sportacus would’ve had to move him around. Whelp, so much for personal integrity. ‘ _I respect your privacy_ _’,_ yeah, right.

Sportacus presented a warm damp cloth, Robbie grimaced at him. “You’ve already invaded my privacy and dignity, and integrity, and, and… And everything else. But, I draw the line at wiping me down like a babe.”

“I was going to ask to clean your face. You have mascara everywhere, _but_ your eyes. And they must sting from all those chemicals.”

“Oh.”

The man wasn’t exaggerating, the damp terrycloth came off smudged in grey and purple. Bye, bye makeup. It also relieved him of the uncomfortable feeling in his eyes.

Discarding the cloth on the side table, Sportacus began warming him up by rubbing his shins, letting the friction of the blanket create heat.

Having Sportacus rub him down through the fluffy polyester was, all things considered, not so bad.

His eyes felt heavy.

“No, wake up, Robbie.”

“Aww, c’mon.”

“I need you to stay awake. You’re not out of the woods... Err, pool, yet.”

“This is stupid.”

“ _Hypoxemia_ isn’t _stupid_. Talk to me, anything to stay awake, really. And if you feel dizzy, or short of breath, tell me immediately.”

Wow, had someone switched out easy-going Sportacus with some austere doppelgänger? Well, if that was how Sportacus wanted it. Then, so be it. “You’re not human, are you?” he finally asked the question that had been haunting him.

The attempt to warm him up halted. “No more than you, I suspect. Otherwise, I would have taken you to a hospital by now.”

Robbie frowned at the comment. Did Sportacus know about his nature, _and how?_ He snuggled into the blanket. “That’s a no then.”

“I’m an elf,” he answered and stuck his thumb in under his damp hat to let one pointed ear slip out for him to see, before he tucked it back in under.

Robbie nodded. He had been right all along.

“And you?”

Sportacus had already revealed his kin, it might as well be fair to make him privy of his own. “Puck,” he said simply.

It was Sportacus’ turn to nod. “Aren’t you a little tall for a Hobgoblin?”

“Shouldn’t you be made out of light and haze?” he snapped right back.

A smile graced the other man’s features. It was comforting seeing it.

“Why’re you still wearing that silly hat? That can’t be comfortable, at all. It’s not like you need to hide your ears from me anymore.”

The smile fell. “I have my reasons.” He continued his work up along his legs.

“Just admit it, you’re balding. There’s a copy of your uniform in one of the tubes... No need for you to get sick as well.”

“I don’t think it would fit me, I’m going to have to fetch another pair from my airship later.”

The thought of the missing control unit crossed his mind and he slipped one arm free to dig his fingers into Sportacus’ bicep. “No, don’t go! _Please, don_ _’t leave me alone!_ ”

His brow knit and he stopped completely. “I wasn’t going to.”

“The spare will fit, I guarantee,” Robbie insisted. “Press the fifth key from the right and pull the lever, okay?”

Sportacus’ lips pressed into a thin angry line and he looked up at Robbie with a deep-set frown. “Alright,” he said with finality and walked over to the machinery on the platform.

From behind him he could hear the tell-tale whistling of the organ in action and the uniform coming out of its tube. Shortly followed by the sound of the wet slap of Sportacus’ soaked clothing hitting the floor. Somewhere back there, out of his sight, was a naked Sportacus. Robbie swallowed, and tried to burrow deeper into the blanket.

Shortly thereafter, the hero came back within view. “It does fit,” he said and tugged on the shirt. He was barefoot and hadn’t put on the west either. The new dry hat was, however, back in place and the goggles hung around his neck. Robbie frowned, where was the crystal? His gaze travelled down and spotted its casing clasped onto his hip and… He diverted his eyes. The disguise in the tube wasn’t equipped with underwear, so Sportacus was going commando.

“Of course it fits. That’s how all of my crafts are designed.”

“By magic?”

“That too.”

Sportacus continued with rubbing his arms and hands through the blanket again. “How are you feeling?”

“Except that I died and the trauma that will take me years to process? Good.”

Sportacus raised an eyebrow at that. “You need to be more careful,” he said.

Great, go ahead and scold him. “I was careful,” he spat, “I wasn’t even near the edge of the pool when…” he trailed off. When he’d gotten dragged in.

“When what, Robbie?” Sportacus looked up from his position, those impossible blue eyes searched his own. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I… I think that someone has it out for me. For real this time.”

“What did you do?”

“Why does everyone ask me that? I don’t know, okay!?” He got his arm free from his wrappings again and waved his hand irritably. “All I did was pointing out that the native spirits and faeries weren’t invited to a party, and suddenly it’s free for all hunting season on Robbie Rotten!”

“Slow down! Who, what and when?”

“While you were wherever you were, I might have gone to a gathering. And I got into a discussion and asked why the only members of importance there were your people and the host’s. Apparently, someone didn’t like my input. Enough to try to kill me. _This_ ,” he pointed in the direction of the pool, “was the second attempt.”

Sportacus blanched. “When was the first attempt?”

“At the sodding event itself. Someone tried to flatten me under a statue!”

“Are you sure?” he breathed, the expression would had been comical, if not for current circumstances.

“I thought that it was an accident at first, but then my brother took me to the side and told me what had really happened.” Sportacus had gone stock-still by his side. “This only proves it further.”

“… I already know that you were in Connemara.”

“Wait, you knew?” That would explain Sportacus earlier comment.

“I’m an elf, remember? My queen was there after all.”

“And the _numbered_ … Wait a tick?” he squinted down at Sportacus. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

He sighed before he spoke again, “yes,” he admitted whilst looking pointedly down at where his hands were working.

“Oh… Uhm… Do you,” he wetted his lip and wedged his arm back in under the blanket, “do you happen to know someone by the name of Tíu?”

Sportacus grimaced. “I do, _very well_.”

“What’s up with _that_ face?”

“He’s… not what you think, Robbie.”

“I didn’t say anything about-”

“Your interactions turned into a bargaining chip for the diplomats.” He looked up at him. “ _Everyone_ knows.”

 

Robbie should really take up Primal Scream therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Corpse Candle is a type of Will-O-Wisp. The colour forebodes death and the red one indicates that an adult male you know is about to die.
> 
> The pool is inspired by the concept art/sketch of Robbie’s lair depicting a pool of sorts in it.
> 
>  
> 
> Technically you're not supposed to breathe into people when performing CPR, since chest compressions are more effective, with a few exceptions. Drowning is one of them, because by doing so, you help the lungs to expand and the water to come up or fall into the throat and out of the respiratory system. Heimlich maneuver isn't as effective however.  
> And the most dangerous thing about saving drowning victims is the risk that you'll drown as well, either because of the physical strain, but most commonly because the victim will clamber onto you in panic, cutting off your mobility and drag you with them.
> 
> This is what happens when your primary- middle school is right by a woodland lake. That shit was drilled into us. We were even versed and did tests in ice-holes with ice picks and stuff... I thought all schools did that. Nope, northerner thing.


	3. By many names taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Is a long messy chapter.
> 
> Ohhh boy, the things I do for self indulgence.

 

Was this how Robbie felt all the time? Dead tired and unstable?

The sound of running water behind the shower curtain ceased. He could hear the other man towel himself dry and put on the new set of clothes identical to the ruined ones. Nudity wasn’t such a big deal to him, but Robbie insisted on making it weird. This act of prudence was uncalled for, Sportacus knew what the other looked like naked, he hadn’t been left with much choice earlier, and even if Robbie didn’t believe him, the only thing that had been on his mind back then was to check his vitals, such as temp, breathing, pallor and swellings. There wasn’t anything sexy about that.

“All done, Sportaperv.”

He rubbed his brow, he could feel the fatigue he was desperately trying to stave off creeping up on him and hoped Robbie didn’t notice. Robbie came back into view from behind him. He looked much better than he’d done during the night. There was a healthy flush from the hot shower and he’d even taken the time to fix his hair, it was a much more titillating look than before in his own opinion. He smirked down at him and Sportacus diverted his eyes to the side.

He had very mixed feelings about the predicament he was in. His original plan to give Robbie, and by Robbie he meant himself, some space was to reject and forget completely.

The incident with the pool had been horrible. Finding out that someone had done this to the trickster on _purpose_ , was _horrifying_.

There was no way that he could bring himself to give either of them space after knowing this. And Robbie in turn appeared bent on not leaving his side either, if the stilted interactions thus far was an indication of what was to come. He steeled himself to continue with the argument they’d had throughout the morning.

“You wanted me to stand guard,” he shrugged and crossed his arms. “But, I still need to go into the pool and _you_ to wait up here.”

The smirk turned into a displeased sneer.

He’d had to admit that he’d been a bit sceptic at first and he had the right to question if Robbie was sure about this, he did have a rather vivid imagination after all. However, when Sportacus had examined the severed cord that he’d claimed that a control unit had been attached to, there was no denying the fact that it had been removed with force. The end looked like it was hacked off.

He hadn’t yet had the time to examine the alleged _murderous_ wire on the bottom of the pool yet and, before he did that, he wanted Robbie to be at a safe distance away from the pool.

It could be a bewitched object of some kind and it was unnecessary to take risks, in case it was still active. In his current state, his reflexes might not be as honed as needed if something was to happen to Robbie again. Keeping the both of them awake throughout the remainder of the night to watch over the man had taken its toll on him. The amount of sleep before the incident was enough for a human, but for a sports elf, he’d need closer to ten hours of uninterrupted sleep for his body to process toxins and rejuvenate his vitality. He could not ensure both of their safeties if things turned ugly.

Needless to say, the suggestion didn’t sit well with him, who was very reluctant to the idea of letting Sportacus out of his sight.

“I don’t know if they’ve booby trapped everything, or if they’re still here lurking somewhere. Do you have any idea how many places there are to hide down here?” He didn’t give him time to answer what turned out to be a rhetorical question. “Well, neither do I. And you want to leave me by myself? _Alone?!_ ”

“My crystal-”

“Yes, yes, your crystal will warn you if something was to happen,” Robbie was echoing his own words at him. “And we know how _that_ turned out.”

He knew more than well how that had nearly turned out. Seeing the lifeless figure of Robbie lying on the floor would haunt him forever.

He could understand the other’s worries, but he was acting like an ambivalent child towards Sportacus, pulling him in and simultaneously pushing him away… It was tedious. “It’s safer if you’re over there,” he insisted for the umpteenth time.

Robbie was muttering indignant noises under his breath and slouched over to dangle his feet over the railing from the platform of the strange machinery that held his disguises, he wasn’t arguing back anymore at least. Good, now Sportacus could survey the pool again.

Draining it earlier had taken faster than expected. Robbie had a lot of apparatuses at his disposal and moving the body of water topside was no hard feat. He wasn’t going to question where the water was moved to exactly. If the ball park was mysteriously flooded, he knew who to hold accountable.

 

He pulled away the cover completely this time and looked down at the displayed tilework below. As he had claimed, there was a wire of sorts down at the bottom, there wasn’t much else to assess from up on the floor level, he’d have to jump down to examine it and with a sense of unease he vaulted down over the edge, and landed on his feet with a splash in the now no deeper than two or three-centimetre water. The man had also claimed that it had been fastened to the cover, but it had either come loose from it, or it had never been attached at all. It laid in coils on the floor of the now shallow water and he approached it with caution.

It was some sort of braided copper wire, a typical industrial application that would not stick out among Robbie’s other knick-knacks in this organized chaos he called home. And a little further ahead laid Robbie’s shoe as well, the tight snag around it left as proof to what had taken place. He stopped and frowned. It could be the ripples of the water playing a trick on his eyes and the uncanny resemblance made by the coils, but this felt as approaching a resting animal than a piece of braided copper.

“Are you still alive down there?” Robbie called. The voice sounded closer than Sportacus would’ve liked.

“Yes, Robbie.”

“Good, just checking… Hey, is my shoe still there?”

Ah, back to the shoe debacle. “It is.” Robbie would’ve wanted his shoe back and it had taken time to convince him to leave it be, but maybe he could try to fetch it himself.

Slowly he crept upon it and squatted. Ordinary copper he concluded, regular smelted iron and not Native Element Mineral, or known as Cold Iron to their kind. Meteoric Iron as such would have been the swiftest way to do away with faes such as Robbie and himself, but it could not be enchanted either. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and reached out. His fingers hovered centimetres from the torn slats, he was hesitating, was it really ripples from his own movements in the water? He didn’t have much more time to think on the subject however. His crystal let out a warning.

With a cry he drew back, just barely managing to dive out of the lashing wire’s reach without losing an eye. Somewhere above him Robbie shouted his actual name. He felt the air move with a whipcracking right to the side of his face and his jaw stung. He scaled the side of the empty pool and vaulted back up on the edge. The shallow water below was splashing up high as the wire whipped around in a frenzy.

Yup, it was definitely still active.

Sportacus felt sick to his stomach. Someone had planted that _thing_ to get Robbie.

A warm hand gripped his wrist and pulled him backwards and away from the pool’s edge. He looked over his shoulder to see Robbie, with _something_ flitting behind his eyes down at him. Naturally, he hadn’t been able to stay away at the sound of Sportacus’ outcry.

“I’m guessing I’m never getting my shoe back,” he said mournfully.

He was about to make a comment about the man’s priorities when he caught something coming at them in the edge of his peripheral vision from the pool. “Duck!” He pulled Robbie down to avoid the chucked object.

The shoe went sailing over their heads and across the lair.

“Much obliged,” Robbie said in the direction of the pool.

Sportacus snorted, “really?”

“Really,” he sighed and worried his lip. They were still crouching, Robbie holding his wrist and he in turn the other’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” they said in unison. Sportacus giggled, coming down from recovery mode and the exhaustion was getting to his head.

The other man didn’t look quite as amused. “You’re cut,” he stated.

This made him blink and let go of Robbie. He felt his jaw where the wire had gotten him and came up with traces of red on his fingertips. “I guess that’s what they call a-”

“Please, don’t say it.”

“Close shave,” he finished with a tired chuckle.

Robbie groaned and hung his head, but he’d had caught the tug in the corners of the man’s mouth. He stared at his hand with a frown, he still hadn’t let go of his wrist. His grip loosened and he finally did so. It probably wasn’t intentional, even if some corner of Sportacus’ mind wanted it to be, but his fingertips ghosted over the back of Sportacus’ hand before he withdrew completely and stood up.

He followed suit, but had to lean on one of the machines when he felt a little unsteady on his feet.

That close encounter he’d just had with the frenzied wire hadn’t done him any favours. His body was going to get what it demanded, whether Sportacus himself consented or not.

“Are you even listening?”

He blinked sluggishly up at him, he was already crashing. “…Sorry, you were saying?”

Robbie squinted down at him and tilted his head. “What’s wrong with you? I’m the one that died, got _pummelled_ back to life, but you look like hell cooked over?”

“I need some rest, but I’m fine.”

“Not so fun is it, when the tables turn?” he said with a nod. “You’re pretty useless without your beauty sleep aren’t you. Why don’t you rest, if you need it so much?”

He was going to retort on how that would contradict Robbie’s own cautious behaviour, but instead blurted out, “you died.”

Robbie frowned at him. “Yes, I just said that.”

“You _died_ ,” he repeated with more emphasis, trying to convey what his tired mind babbled out. “I’ve never lost someone.”

“Sorry to sabotage your winning streak.”

He wanted to grab the taller lanky man by the shoulders and shake him good and hard in frustration. Hobgoblin, puck, or not, the trickster didn’t know when to stop pulling Sportacus’ chain. Instead of manhandling the goblin-man, he put his face in his hands and chuckled mirthlessly. Sportacus had thought that he didn’t have any fears. Evidently, he had been wrong. Very, _very_ , wrong. Losing someone he cared about had been terrifying. “I care about you,” he said, looking back up, “finding you like that… It was bad. _Very_ bad.” Words wasn’t enough to explain how he’d felt at the discovery, even less so in English.

 

Robbie was gaping at him. Somewhere behind them the wire was slowing down its thrashing.

 

“Oh,” Robbie said eventually, “uhm, good thing that it was me, and not one of the kids, then.”

“You are no less important than anyone else, Robbie.”

The other sighed, “let’s say that I believe you.” A shadow of that soft look on his face was there. “Thank you.”

At least Sportacus had enough inhibition to not blurt out that he was beautiful looking like that.

 

* * *

 

It was almost funny. Almost.

Seeing as how Sportacus had been badgering him throughout the night, hellbent on keeping Robbie awake in some misguided fear of him stopping to breathe, or whatever, and now _he_ was the one who was dead on his feet.

A prime example of the differences between them. Robbie could go days without proper rest. Goblins were a resilient type after all, while Sportacus, physically strong Sportacus with the stamina of a beast, was, in reality, a dainty flower that couldn’t even stay upright after what he personally would call a rare and excellent sleep session.

With a grunt, the shorter man pushed off from the machine he had leaned up against.

“Okay, this was kind of entertaining,” Robbie said, “but, if you crash here on the spot-”

“I’m not,” the other protested. This was like arguing with one of the kids.

“Uh, yes, yes you are.”

The wretched wire splashed again, making itself reminded. “Oh, do shut up!” he snarled at its direction. Sportacus gave him a curious look.

“What? Like you don’t talk to inanimate objects.”

“I’d say it’s very animated.”

Robbie felt his face twitch in aggravation and he pulled a series of grimaces. Tired Sportacus fancied himself a comedian it would seem. “You know what I meant.”

“We should get out of here. I need to…”

Sportacus stumbled.

“Please don’t fall asleep on me.”

“I am fine. I am...”

“You’re falling asleep, aren’t you?”

Sportacus answered him with a wide yawn.

 

How was this his life? He asked himself that for what had to be the fifteenth time and counting.

At least they had been close to the chair when Sportacus had decided to go _night night_ on him.

“As a greedy brat once said; that’s _mine_ ,” he said and shoved the sleeping man into his armchair. “But sure, have it your way. Consider this me showing my gratitude. Onetime offer, a nap in _my_ chair.”

The thought crossed his mind to leave Sportacus down here, but that would be nothing short of suicide. The elf was asleep, but at least he was close by if something was to happen.

“Please hold off on the murder?” he said out to the empty air and sat down cross-legged on the floor by the other’s feet. He rested his head on his knuckle and sighed in defeat.

He was still processing the man’s admission. Or, rambling more like. And that idiot had decided to go down alone in the pool in his state? Maybe the hero could show that he cared, by not getting himself, or yours truly, killed?

It was nice to pretend that the hero cared about him at least, even if they all knew that if the choice had been between him and one of the kids, Sportacus would’ve chosen any of them a hundred times without hesitation, over Robbie, a grouchy trickster who had made nothing but life difficult for him.

Bah! Why was he dwelling on this? He rubbed his own tired eyes. The elf had conked out, it should be a perfect opportunity for him to get some rest too. Hoping that nothing would snuck up on them, he leaned back against the footrest and closed his eyes.

 

He woke up later, hugging Sportacus’ legs and with his face nuzzling the side of his knee. Ugh, no, bad. He somehow felt worse than before he napped. He was still alive, though, that had to count for something. Absently he pawed his vest for his pocket watch, only to realise that it was waterlogged along with the rest of the other attire. With a sigh he leaned against the leg and felt the warmth of the other seep through the material. Why was this happening to him? Robbie hadn’t done anything bad… Err… Worse, than usual.

A warning shot the size of a twenty-foot statue for flapping his gums made sense. This however? Why would anyone go through the trouble of hunting him down all the way back to LazyTown? He had started to hope that it was a trick of his imagination, that he’d somehow managed to get himself entangled in a loose piece of the hydramatic system and torn off the control unit in the process. A freak accident, but an accident nonetheless.

The grim look on the elf’s face after he’d looked up on the missing unit had told a different story and then the sketchy behaviour of keeping Robbie away from the area all together. That had set off alarm bells in his head.

Just a healthy dose of paranoia, _hours after someone tried to murder him!_

And now the blasted elf was asleep, doing neither of them any favours.

 

“Are you planning on waking up anytime soon?” he asked.

Sportacus didn’t answer him, no more than shifting against him.

Robbie knocked his forehead against the knee and groaned. “Useless.”

 

He was really hoping that Sportacus would wake up if the crystal went off and he darted for the kitchen area. He filled his arms with bags of chips and soda and darted back. That had to be a new record, he was somewhat glad that Sportacus hadn’t seen him move that fast. His brittle ego couldn’t handle it right now. With the press of a button he lowered the Television from the ceiling, seconds before he remembered his fear about booby traps. Well, it hadn’t crashed down on his head… Maybe, he had been overreacting. Maybe, the pool was the only dangerous area right now. 

He turned on the TV. Sportacus made a whining noise behind him. Someone had sensitive hearing, the sound of the infomercial was barely audible. 

Robbie sipped on his soda, feeling better instantly and dug in on the chips.

Curiously, he turned around to look at the sleeping man. Why did he still insist on that hat anyway? If it wasn’t to filter out sounds?

He bit his lip.

No, he should leave it be.

It was none of his business.

 

Oh, to hell with it.

 

Robbie had always been too curious for his own wellbeing, some might even say nosy, they weren’t wrong. He gingerly perched upon the armrest. Sportacus didn’t stir, good.

This up close, he got a look of the elf’s face in detail. Sportacus sighed at the contact of Robbie’s fingers tilting his head. He took in the laugh lines and the fine dusting of freckles, probably from running around in the sun. He must have a hilarious farmer’s tan. He tilted his head further, to take a look at the cut. It had not been worse than a paper cut and had now healed up completely. Robbie didn’t know how he would have reacted if it had been worse. He wasn’t good with injuries and he felt queasy at the sight of blood, that should, in his humble opinion, stay inside the body. Speaking of injuries… He shifted back to look at the gauze. What had the hero managed to do to himself? The outer edge of the tape had come loose, and he could spot the discolouration of green and yellow. That must have been a rather impressive bruise underneath. He was no stranger to those. All the more reason not to be active. You only got hurt. In many ways.

Running? Scabbed knees.

Climbing? Broken bones.

Putting yourself out there? Damaged pride and heart.

Robbie was an idiot to think that anyone would be interested in him. _Bargaining chip_ … Thanks a lot, Tíu.

He looked back to Sportacus’ face. The man had probably gotten the bruise the same way that he got the cut. By stupid chivalry… For some dollface in peril.

Robbie was an idiot indeed. At least this elf was a disgustingly honest one.

 

“Don’t make this awkward,” he murmured to himself, “it’s just a stupid hat.”

 

With his heart hammering in his chest he snuck his fingers in under Sportacus’ hat and let one pointed ear out. The tip was warm and red from being crammed in under the snug hat. It really couldn’t be comfortable. He did the same with the other, he was doing the elf a favour he told himself. Robbie didn’t see what the big deal here was of concealing them, especially from him. They were ears. A little more pointed than his own, or a human’s. Heck, he’d had seen humans that underwent plastic surgery on some dumb belief that elves were these graceful ethereal beings, when in truth they were, based on the one snoozing away under him, rowdy nuisances.

This would be a good time to draw back and stop acting like a creep, hypocrite as he was. Instead, he traced his fingers along the rim. He was way overstepping the other’s personal boundaries now. But, one look wouldn’t hurt? Right? The material moved far enough that he could see the brown gradient into a shade lighter, when Sportacus brow creased and he tensed under him.

He drew back instantly and fell on his back below the chair. He could almost feel in the air as Sportacus came to full wakefulness, not that it warned him enough when he jumped up and out of the chair like some windup toy, and nearly landed on him.

“Eek!” He found his head framed by the other’s feet.

“Oh! Sorry, Robbie!” The man had the gall to look sheepishly down at him. “What are you doing down there?”

“Sitting,” he blurted out the first thing that came to his defence, “and good afternoon to you, thank you for almost stomping on me.” He rolled away and back to the TV. “Don’t quit your day job, _hero_.”

It was unfathomable how perky the man looked. It was an insult. Duracell-elf, that was the only explanation.

 

“What’s that noise?” Sportacus’ ears flicked, to Robbie’s interest, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound he was picking up.

Sportacus froze at the realization and put his hands up to his ears. So much for that.

“Did you remove my hat?”

“I let your ears out,” he sniffed. It was the truth. And he hadn’t removed the hat, simply because he had been interrupted.

A grimace flashed over the man’s face. “You can’t just… Robbie, I never said that you could touch my ears!”

He knew that he’d overstepped his boundaries, but he thought that Sportacus was overreacting, it wasn’t as if he’d rolled him up naked in a blanket. If anything, they were on the road back to being even. “Sorry, I guess. And the noise you’re looking for is probably high-frequency radio-waves,” he said and nodded to the TV. He laid on his stomach and took the remote to turn up the volume. If he’d known sooner, he could’ve just gotten a dog-whistle and driven the elf off with that ages ago.

The other tucked his ears back in. Pity. Sportacus watched the screen curiously. The presenter on the screen was humanoid, could almost pass for human even, if it wasn’t for the shape of their face and ears. And the high-pitched chattering. The image changed into another presenter talking in rapid fire over some lawnmower. Their skin was greenish.

“Robbie, what’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, maybe you’ve never encountered one before in your hectic life of pointless cardio and ruining my daily fun. _That_ ,” he pointed towards the TV and teased, “is what we normal folks call a TV, short for Television.” He waved the TV remote in his hand. “And _this_ , is a remote controller that allows me to change what to see on the TV, without having to get up. I know, I know, it’s a lot to take in but do try to keep up.” Teasing and pulling the man’s leg felt familiar, it gave him a sense of normality.

“I meant the channel,” he dead panned.

“Infomercials mostly. The ‘ _Shop ‘til_ _you drop_ ’ channel.”

Sportacus mouthed the name of the channel. “Robbie, are those… Gremlins?”

“Yes.” They were both fae. He didn’t see the issue here and shrugged.

“They have their own channel?”

Robbie rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV. The goblin on the screen chattered on about what looked like a boiler of some kind now. “Ever since their kin was officially acknowledged, they’ve been rather quick in adapting and pushing forward modern technology, if you ask me,” he said without looking away from the screen. “It wouldn’t surprise me if some of your tech is through their channels.”

“It isn’t,” Sportacus denied from above him. “But, what if humans pinged in on their frequency?”

“You arrived in a blimp and declared yourself hero of this town, I don’t think you have any room to judge.”

“I have a permit.” The coy look he caught was a little cute.

Robbie snorted in amusement.

The object they announced changed into a humanoid robot they both were quite familiar with and he grunted in displeasure, so did Sportacus. Robbie had almost succeeded with Roboticus, until it had turned on him. “Waste of money piece of junk. Didn’t want to give me a refund,” Robbie spat.

“So, that’s how you got a robot of that calibre. I thought you built all of these inventions yourself.”

“I’m lazy, remember? Why re-invent the wheel? If it’s already there, then why waste my energy on building it myself?” He was starting to draw correlations between ordered tech and mechanical misbehaviour in his head. He wouldn’t order any Grem-tech in the near future.

“What happened to it?”

“It met the same fate as all uprising machinery.” Robbie grinned. “A big wrench and blunt force.” After it had run out of batteries, of course.

He raised an eyebrow and looked down at him. “Are you sure that you need my help, if you can reduce a robot to scraps on your own?”

His gut twisted into a cold knot. Sportacus was looking for a way out of babysitting. Understandable, he appeared when things had started to go downhill, he never waited around to prevent them in the first place, and Robbie wasn’t in any direct danger this very moment, nor was he fun company. “This is _different_.”

A piece of uprising technology was something he could deal with and neither had it called upon the attention of the noisy rock in Sportacus’ embellished casing, so it had never been _this_ bad.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus immediately regretted the comment. The grin had fallen from Robbie’s face and fear had flashed behind his eyes. “I was joking,” he tried to placate him. The man had acted almost like his usual self with jabs and arrogant façade, so believable that he’d bought it.

“Your jokes suck.”

He kind of deserved that one.

“And you slept on the job. You’d be an awful bodyguard, you know that?”

He _definitely_ deserved that one. That was entirely his own fault. His body had shut down at the worst of times and he’d left Robbie to fend for himself.

Robbie wasn’t going to like what he had to say in this case then. “I need to go to the airship. I have to look up if anyone saw something back at the first attempt on your life.”

As predicted, he didn’t like it. “No, no, no! What happened with not leaving me alone?”

“We can’t stay down here.” The man had a point that there were too many places to hide and the presence of the wire didn’t ease his mind.

“Agreed.”

“But, I can’t bring you with me.”

“So, you’re leaving me to die?”

“No!” The man flinched at the outburst. “No,” he repeated softer, trying to get a grip on himself. “I’m _not_ leaving you to die. I have an idea.”

 

Ten minutes later and topside, Robbie spoke up. “This is a trash idea.”

 

They were in front of the Town Hall. Robbie was pacing along outside the entrance and glaring daggers at Sportacus.

“You’ll be safe in there, until I get back.”

“How is this _safe?!_ ” he shouted and raised his arms high.

Sportacus had to shush him down and looked around them, they didn’t need to attract the attention of the whole town. “You’ll be among humans. In broad daylight,” he pointed out. It was a poor excuse. The absolute safest place would probably be to lock the man up in the airship and _never_ let him go. That… Was a troubling thought, troubling because of the mixed response he felt at that. “It’s for a short while only.”

“And how does the great detective plan on finding out what befell me? You don’t even know who were there when it happened.”

“Other elves?”

“That’s assuming that they were close by.” He frowned down at him.

“I… Uhm, I guessed?” Robbie hadn’t said anything more than mentioning the statue. Sportacus didn’t know the details. Wasn’t supposed to anyway. “Was I wrong?”

Robbie sighed, “no, there were two elves there that saved me. And don’t look so smug.”

He stopped the man in his pacing. “Then tell me what happened. And do you know their names?” Might as well play along. It had been his cousin and himself, for starters. There had also been the child, as well as its guardian, but he didn’t know the Sidhe or their affiliation.

Robbie nodded and looked around before he spoke, “I was minding my own business under, what would turn out to be, a falling block of marble. The stone cracked clean off by the base as far as I know… And there were Sidhe toddlers playing around. Small troublemakers, no matter the race. I don’t know where their caretaker was, but they were doing a bad job.” He hesitated. “Tíu was the one who got me out of the way…” Robbie looked away and held his elbow after the mentioning of the formal title he believed to be his name, and worried his lip. Sportacus shifted his weight and waited for him to continue. Maybe, he shouldn’t have put it like that, when he said last night that he knew who it was and _how_ he knew. It was more personal to Robbie than he’d first thought. “And then there was this other elf that my brother has some vendetta going on with. He keeps going on about Íþróttaálfkýrinn this, Íþróttaálfkýrinn that.”

He hadn’t expected _that_ twist in their conversation. Sportacus snorted and then burst out laughing at the name.

Neither had the other, who looked down quizzically at him. “What?”

He tried to explain to Robbie what it meant, but he succumbed to another fit of giggles. His sides were hurting. “It…” He gasped and wiped his eyes. “ _K_ _ýrinn_ means _cow_.” Name-calling evidently ran in the Glæpur family. Oh, he had to use this on his cousin. “Your brother has been calling Íþróttaál _furinn_ , kýrinn all this time?”

“Do you know him?”

“He’s my cousin.”

Robbie chuckled too, when he understood what was so funny, “I think my life has come full circle, somehow.” The pleasant break from all the seriousness between them was short-lived. His gaze fixated on something on the road and he froze up.

Sportacus turned around to see what he had spotted.

It was Stephanie coming at them at full speed. “Sportacus!” She was holding a soccer ball in her hands as she approached them. For a moment she gazed up at Robbie and knit her brow at the loner’s presence, but continued regardless.

“Hi, Stephanie.” He ignored Robbie’s sigh of aggravation. He didn’t believe that the man truly hated the town children. Not like he disliked him, anyway.

She bounced the ball when she’d reached them. Her face was glowing at the grownups. “We’re playing soccer in the park. Will you join us, Sportacus?”

The proposition was appealing and normally he wouldn’t turn down a good soccer match. He smiled down at her, “maybe later.”

The happy glow faded. “You sounded like my parents when you said that.” She pouted. “Always later. But, they never get time.”

Oh dear. Sportacus had never met her parents, and what little he did know was through Milford. But, this didn’t sound like a good comparison, _at all_. He squatted down to her level. “Can I let you in on a secret, Stephanie?” he smiled.

This made her perk up. “Yes, of course!”

He looked over his shoulder to Robbie, who was watching them warily, then back to the human girl in front of him. He lowered his voice to a conspiring tone, “I’m on a secret mission right now.” This should cheer her up. Children liked feeling included, so did anyone really, _and_ she would understand why he couldn’t spend time with them right now.

Her eyes widened. “A secret mission?”

“Top secret,” he said and winked as he explained. “I have to make sure that Robbie doesn’t get hurt.”

Her dark eyes darted between him and Robbie. She frowned and pursed her small mouth. “But, that’s impossible. Robbie is a klutz.”

“Hey!” the tall man objected behind him

“Sorry,” Stephanie lowered her voice again and eyed Robbie.

“It will be a great challenge.” He wasn’t sure if he directed that to Stephanie, or talking to himself on that one.

It seemed to be enough explanation to the girl. “Alright. Good luck, Sportacus.” She nodded and grinned. “Be careful, Robbie!” she cried as she took off towards the park.

“ _Be careful, Robbie_ ,” he mimicked and stuck out his tongue at the disappearing human. “Bah!”

Sportacus stood up and grinned.

“I would almost be proud of her,” Robbie sniffed, “but you are so easy to manipulate.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to raise to the bait of his goodwill.

“You’re learning as well though. Half-truths and such.” Robbie arched a brow at him.

Sportacus accidentally pierced the flesh. He breathed in deeply through the pain before he spoke. “I’ll see you in a bit. Stay inside.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Please?”

Robbie didn’t answer him, but opened the front door that would lead to Milford’s office and spoke loudly, “Mr. Mayor! I would like to file a complaint!”

 

He wrote a letter that was short and to the point. It was to home in on Íþróttaálfurinn, telling him that it was urgent and to get to a terminal to speak with him directly. Sportacus couldn’t trust that the letter wouldn’t be intercepted.

Hopefully he was close to their telecom already, Sportacus didn’t look forward to waiting around.

After a meal and a quick rinse to wash off the remnants of pool water irritating his skin, and into his spare uniform, he was feeling somewhat better. Feeling rejuvenated and as well comforted by the thought of Robbie being safe in the Town Hall, he waited for his cousin to reply, either through letter or through more modern means as requested.

His mind was racing. Why would anyone do such a vile thing? Robbie did a lot of bad things. But, never anything to push someone to try to take his life?!

The thought of locking him up somewhere safe crossed his mind again, but he discarded that, feeling disgusted with himself. He tugged the new hat further down over his head to secure it in place. Robbie was quick in judging others conduct, but apparently respecting personal boundaries was something that didn’t apply to himself.

It was silly really. Like the colour of his hair would bring the man to revelation? Laughable even.

Part of him wanted Robbie to hate what had transpired, to forget Tíu and everything that entailed. The selfish part of him wanted Robbie to remember of him fondly.

He’d already ruined that. Somehow, he’d managed to make the man think that he had been used. That feeling didn’t sit well with him either.

He hadn’t moved around that much, and he could feel it, like ants under his skin and an itch to do _something_. He might take the opportunity to work off the excess energy in his body while he waited, as well as to clear his head.

He’d eased some of the restlessness in his body with a basketball, enough to feel a burn, when the intercom started flashing. He bounced over to the front of the ship’s quarters and called down the screen.

His cousin’s face was there to greet him on the other end of the terminal.

“What happened?” Íþróttaálfurinn didn’t beat around the bush.

“Hi,” he said in greeting and threw the ball to bounce back at him against the wall.

The colour of the wall behind his cousin indicated that he was in Álfaborg. Either he had been close by, or he’d been in their capital already. “You sure know how to be cryptic sometimes. What’s important enough, that you, of all people, ask for a secure channel?” Worry painted his usually cheerful face. “Is something wrong?”

He grabbed the ball on the rebound and turned it in his hands. “There was a murder attempt last night.” The words felt foreign in his mouth, a comment he’d never thought he’d have to say. “One of _ours_.”

Íþróttaálfurinn scowled. “Ours?”

“Unseelie most likely, they used a bewitched object.” He sighed and looked down at the ball in his grip. “The intended victim was Robbie.”

That made the other react instantly and his eyes widened. “You think that the accident back at the negotiations, wasn’t one.” He was drawing the right conclusion on why Sportacus had wanted Íþróttaálfurinn to contact him through this channel.

“Robbie seems to think so, and apparently Glanni too, if I understood right. You and I were the first ones at the scene when it happened. Do you remember anything out of the ordinary?”

“Not really, the statue had come clean off, I assumed that the Sidhe had exploited an already existing fracture in the stonework. Some toddlers come into their powers earlier than others. Whatever trace there was of foul play, was most likely erased when the staff cleaned up the place.”

He nodded and bit his thumb. They both fell silent in deep thought until Íþróttaálfurinn spoke up again.

“How are you holding up?”

His brow rose. “Me?”

“You look dreadful and you seemed… _Close_ with Rotten.”

“About that, I think it’s better if he doesn’t know I was there.”

“He… Sportacus, he didn’t know it was you when you-?”

“Íþróttaálfurinn, he can’t know. He… I didn’t plan for it to happen.”

“And here I thought _my_ life was complicated.”

He did not want to know the finer details of what that entailed.

Íþróttaálfurinn had the sense to get back to their previous topic. “Why would anyone want him dead anyway? He doesn’t strike me as much of a social flower, as his brother, to get caught up in court intrigues.”

“Robbie can be… Crass.” That was putting it mildly. “And he might have, unintendedly, angered the wrong person.” He was pacing now, bouncing the ball with every other step. “Don’t you wonder why the Seelie and the Unseelie royals weren’t there? The negotiations were after all in their best interest?”

“You think something’s up?”

“Someone believes that Robbie does.” He tossed the ball into its designated hole in the wall. “There was something else too,” Sportacus said and turned back to the screen. “He had pointed out that no native faeries were there either. I don’t know what he meant by that though.”

The receiving end sighed, “oh boy. Yes, I can understand why that would upset people. Many faes came to the US and Canada, along with the humans during the colonization’s and just like them they forced out natives, the indigenous faeries, from their lands.”

“I see,” he said. Sportacus had never stopped to consider the indigenous populations of fair folks. Whenever anyone brought up the faes in North America, the context was always of the two mayor courts residing there.

“I’ll see what I can do on my end,” Íþróttaálfurinn said eventually.

“Alright, thank you.”

“Promise me that you’ll be careful,” his hand hovered over the switch on his end, “and, Sportacus? You should tell him.”

“I’ll think about it, bye and take care, _Íþr_ _ótta_ _álfk_ _ýrinn_.” He winked with a wide grin.

He caught the flabbergasted expression on his cousin’s face and what was the beginning of a long chant of swears directed towards a specific Glæpur, before he turned off the transmission.

As fun as that had been, he needed to get back to Robbie, to check up on him and to ask some questions.

 

Almost to the ground he felt his crystal flicker, and his landing turned into a stumble. The crystal pulsed through his chest briefly, before it ceased.

That wasn’t natural. He’d never experienced that type of behaviour from it before.

With his heart in his throat, he made way to the Town Hall.

 

“Mayor?” He all but burst through the door.

“Sportacus?” Milford looked up from his desk with a jolt.

“Mr. Meanswell, is Robbie still here?”

“Robbie? Oh, I’m so sorry, but he left some time ago,” the rotund man answered.

“He _what?_ ” Sportacus choked, feeling his gut drop and several alarms going off in his head. Why would he do that?

Milford was oblivious to the hero’s agitated state and continued, “Yes, indeed. He just missed the archivist. A pity considering that he wanted to go through the official documents too, but maybe just as well. It would have been rather crowded back there.”

Sportacus swallowed down his heart. “This archivist,” he had a niggling feeling who that might truly be, “are they still here?”

“Yes, he is. He’s still in the backroom.”

He nodded. “I think I’ll say hi.”

“Oh, do so! It’s always nice to meet new people, don’t you think?”

He could only nod at that. New, indeed.

Behind the door, the archives was in disarray and he had to wade through a sea of folders. In the middle of it all, half-buried under a big pile of paper, snoozed an elderly mousy man.

He could be wrong, and this was an unfortunate stranger, but, the chaos surrounding them carried the trickster’s trademark. “Hey, there.” He squatted close by.

“Mmnngh,” the stranger mumbled and turned in their sleep.

“Was this really necessary?” he smiled. This would take ages to clear up.

“Mmh, Sportacus,” the man murmured.

Oh. Okay, it was definitely Robbie in disguise. Was he dreaming of him? He cleared his throat. “Robbie?”

 

* * *

 

Another thing the two elves had in common?

They would both be lousy bodyguards.

First, the man had gone one on one with a cursed object, in his failing state. _Then_ , he had fallen asleep on him for several hours! And _now?!_ Now, he had sent him away on his own to die!

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t directly asked him to be his bodyguard in the first place. He had assumed that Sportacus’ protective nature would kick in. And it had. A bit more than Robbie himself would have anticipated perhaps.

Sportacus was acting stranger than usual. That was all he could say.

Having the usually upbeat elf going all serious on him was… Disconcerting.

He threw another binder over his shoulder. This disguise he’d put together without going down to his lair wasn’t one of his favourites, but it was inconspicuous enough. Complaining about the rumour of the Mayor planning to paint the Town Hall blue could only keep up the farce for so long until Milford would start with unnecessary personal questions. He’d then moved on to the archives. That’s when the thought had struck him to go as _Archie The Archivist_. He’d be amongst humans in a public building, just as Sportacus had wished, and he’d be disguised. Just in case.

He’d been amongst people during the first incident after all.

“Who does he think that he is,” he muttered under his breath as he emptied the last filing cabinet in the room. “telling me what to do.” He put his hands on his hips and surveyed his work. “There, all done!” Who said he couldn’t have a bit of fun and make himself comfortable at the same time. He dove into the pile of binders and loose documents he had created. This would take days to re-organize for Milford and Bessie. Well, only Milford. Bessie was a woman who knew how to get out of hard grafting. He sighed in content and buried himself deeper into the mound of paper he’d created. This was quite comfy indeed and he yawned, he had a lot of rest to catch up on.

 

A funny thought about nightingales and soccer balls came to mind as he fell asleep.

 

It felt like he had just closed his eyes when a voice rose him back to consciousness.

“Robbie?”

Was that Sportacus?

“Robbie, wake up!”

He emerged out of his burrow of papers like the angered ancient deep-sea creature, who wanted to be left for its eternal slumber, that he was always meant to be. “What?!” he bellowed.

“Oh, good. It is actually you,” the man smiled.

“What do you me-? Oh…” He had forgotten about his disguise. He removed the wig, as well as a paper that had stuck to his cheek.

Sportacus was squatting by his side, looking quite pleased with himself for whatever reason.

“You talk in your sleep.” He grinned wider. “Did you know that?”

Robbie felt awkward at that. He said a lot of silly things in his sleep. Sportacus was a reoccurring thing in them, he could only hope that he hadn’t said anything mortifying in his snoozing. “Creep.”

“You _touched me_ while I slept,” the other pointed out. “That was _not_ okay.”

Robbie gaped, feeling himself become flustered at the other’s misuse of the English language. He was fully awake now at the very least. ‘ _Get your mind out of the gutter,_ ’ he reprimanded himself. He understood very well what Sportacus meant. “Yeah, I get it,” he said and rose from his papery bedding.

 

“Is everything alright back there?” they heard Milford’s voice through the doorway.

He pulled the wig back on as fast as he could.

Sportacus turned to the door. “Yes, Mr. Meanswell. Everything is alright.”

That didn’t keep the Mayor away however. “Oh dear. What happened here?”

Robbie went back into his persona effortlessly. “Yes, what happened here indeed?! This is worse than I thought!” He pretended to go into a rant. “This is outrageous, this place is a mess! I am surprised anyone can find anything in here!”

“Oh my,” Milford looked around the chaos that Robbie had created. He did feel a little bit better at the reaction of his handiwork.

“Indeed, indeed.” He dusted himself off and adjusted an imaginary bow tie. “I’m afraid that I will have to come back at a later date, when you have cleared up this disgrace. Fare thee well.”

He marched out of the room, leaving a dismayed Milford in his wake. He got out through the front door and made it to the gate, when Sportacus caught up with him.

His eyes were steely. “You didn’t need to do that,” he said lowly at him.

“What’s it to you? No one was harmed and now they actually have to properly organize those cabinets.”

“How can you…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. A frustrated Sportacus? Now, _those_ were rare. “How do you do it? How can you just put on a glamour, be rude, tricking, _using_ people, and then carry on?” He looked up at him, shaking his head. “Like nothing has happened?”

Oh, goody. A moral chastising. “First of all; it’s a _disguise_ ,” he said and drew back to remove the impromptu outfit over his normal one. “Second of all; it’s an act, a _persona_. And, it also helps that I’m not exactly on speaking terms with my conscious.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Not asking you to do that.”

“It’s still you underneath it all.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I think you’re hiding yourself behind those disguises.”

That comment struck a little too close to home. “ _That_ _’s the point of a disguise!_ ” His face was hot and he towered over the shorter man. “To _hide!_ ”

Sportacus didn’t even flinch at the outburst. If anything, he looked satisfied.

Robbie threw the outfit in a bin and slammed the lid down hard with an audible clang.

Neither of them said anything. They knew that they had somehow gone too far and gotten too personal. Or, so he hoped that Sportacus understood.

He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Did the great detective find any clues?” That’s why they were here, wasn’t it? To find out why Robbie had an angry piece of industrial application in his home doing the Black Mamba number five.

He looked around and led them away from the Town Hall. “Not more than you already told me, I’m afraid.” The serious austere Sportacus was back.

Robbie bit back the scathing remark he had waiting. There was no use in insulting the other man more than he already had. “But?”

“I need you to tell me what exactly you said, that you think could have angered anyone enough.” The subtext being;  _to get anyone mad enough to want you dead_.

This was inane and wouldn’t get them anywhere. “I already told you.” He sat down on the grass under a tree, whether Sportacus followed suit was up to him entirely. To his mild surprise he did. Across from him and close enough for their knees to touch.

“Continue.”

“Urgh. So, I was dragged into a conversation with my mother’s associates. An old wrinkly bunch, and was asked what my thoughts on the gathering was. I wanted to get out of it and spoke my mind. Because, no one wants to hear what I truly think on anything, am I right?”

“I do.”

“That’s cute.” Robbie ducked his head. It had been a rhetorical question. “But anyway, I said that it was noteworthy that none of the involved courts royals were there and that only their amateur diplomats were present. I also said… That the Mikumwesuk weren’t there. Which was sketchy, considering that the ruckus was about their land anyway.”

“Mikumwesuk?”

“You’ve never heard of-?” His mind boggled at the man’s ignorance. “Sportasimple, they’re the native American faeries! The little people! Or, or, the _Kiwakwes_ , the giants of the north! Have you heard of them at least?!”

The elf in front of him shook his head.

Robbie swore and buried his face in his hands. “Okay,” he said when he had simmered down enough not to scream at the other, “let me walk you through this. They’re the indigenous population of faes, amongst others. A part of the Unseelie’s claim on land, as well as my mother’s, is, to no one’s surprise, in the northeast where they used to own land. Alright?”

The other nodded. “Alright.”

“So, just as the humans are squabbling over stealing land, so are the fair folks.” Sportacus seemed to follow. “These landgrabs, are by both the Seelie and the Unseelie courts. It doesn’t personally bother me. But, it’s suspicious that neither of the concerned parties turned up.”

“Are you saying that the negotiations… Were staged?”

“A sham, partly. I think your people went in there with good intentions, as well the Connacht when they summoned it. But I don’t trust the courts to play fair. Not the Unseelie, and _especially_ not the Seelie; they’re a bunch of hypocritical puritans.”

Sportacus nodded and stuck his tongue out in thought. “So, by pointing this out?”

“Someone got very, _very_ , angry. I just can’t figure out _who!?_ I’m a common goblin, minding my own business. Trying to drive _you_ out of _my_ town. And _this_ is what I get?!”

“Good thing that you haven’t succeeded then.”

“I guess,” he admitted, reluctantly.

Sportacus smiled at him, the late afternoon sun reflecting in his impossible blue eyes from their angle where they sat under the tree, and Robbie hated himself, for thinking of things he had not made himself deserving of.

Sportacus had to ruin the moment by speaking. “You’re very good with glamours and illusions. I was afraid there for a while, that it wasn’t you sleeping in the archives.”

“You? Afraid?” The thought of large extinct lizards came to mind, but he didn’t bring it up.

“I thought something had happened to you while I was in the airship,” he explained, shrugging.

“Why?”

“Mr. Meanswell said that you had left and before that…” Sportacus worked his jaw and thumbed the casing on his chest. “My crystal… Flared?” He looked back to Robbie again. “I don’t know. I thought that it was you in danger, but… It stopped?”

“Say what? Is your crystal misfiring?” This was _not_ a good time for the rock to act up.

“It felt like when it’s not in its casing. A pulse. But, then it flickered off?”

“Maybe, it’s your imagination. Or it’s resetting itself?” He tried to lighten the mood. “Maybe, someone got stuck in a tree and got down on their own?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Sportacus insisted.

 

Well, who was he to question the bond between a Nordic elf and his crystal.

 

“Do… Do you want to check up on the LazyTowners?” The children and the residents were Sportacus’ priority number one after all. And Robbie didn’t like the thought of something happening to the kids. He might play tricks on them from time to time, but they were never in any grave danger from him. Trashcans and robotic dogs did not count.

 

Sportacus didn’t get time to answer him. The LazyTowners had come to them instead it had seemed.

 

“Guys?” Their attention was drawn to Pixel’s voice in a group of the town children. They all held flashlights and wore reflective vests.

Stephanie stepped forth with a phone in hand. “Have you seen Ziggy?”

“No?” Robbie spoke before Sportacus could. “Why?” He didn’t like this one bit.

“He didn’t come home after our games.” She lifted the phone up. “His parents have called around all evening.”

Sportacus sprung up by his side. He could feel bile rise in his throat. One of the kids was missing. One of _theirs_.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus and Robbie were acting weird, Stephanie thought as she ran off towards the park. The fact that they were anywhere close to each other was odd. She dropped the ball and dribbled it. Sportacus wanted to be Robbie’s friend. He’d said so himself. Robbie however… Wasn’t that keen on that idea. Which was strange. Who wouldn’t want to be Sportacus’ friend? He was thoughtful, a good sport and he _always_ took time to listen to you.

Then again, Robbie was the complete opposite. He was grouchy, mischievous, bad tempered and the reason why Sportacus had to save the townspeople most of the time.

Maybe, Sportacus was planning on befriending Robbie by saving him and keeping him safe, as he’d told her? Robbie seemed quite lonely after all and could use someone who showed that they cared. Actions did speak louder than words, and Sportacus was, if anything, a man of action.

She didn’t get much time to ponder on the strange adults’ behaviour, when she eventually reached the ball park.

She smiled and joined her friends. “Hi, guys! Sorry to keep you waiting!” 

“Took you long enough,” Trixie complained.

“I said I’m sorry,” she huffed and kicked the ball towards her pigtailed friend. “I ran into Sportacus,” she explained.

This made Ziggy perk up. “Will he come play with us?”

“No, he said that he couldn’t,” Stephanie shook her head. She wanted to share what he had told her, but he had said that it was top secret.

The youngest in the group hung his head and sighed dejectedly. “Aww.”

 

The match went on.

She had completely forgotten about the adults and was solely focused on beating Stingy’s team now.

When they heard a strange melodious voice, that caught their attention en masse.

“Hello,” it was like music to her ears, “that looks like fun, can I join in too?”

“Who’s asking?” Trixie leered and turned towards the source. And froze in her tracks.

Stephanie had turned as well to see who the stranger was.

There, up on one of the walls, sat a boy that she’d never seen before in their small town. Stephanie could not for the life of her guess his age, but he was _pretty._ He had dark doe eyes and wavy brown hair framing a heart shaped face with skin like porcelain. He looked like a doll come to life. The boy grinned wide and jumped down. He was short. _Very short_. No more than three feet tall she guessed. His right arm was in a sling of sorts. “Yes, sure,” she said. “But, can you keep up with your arm? I mean nothing bad,” she added. “We can change the rules to fit you.” Sportacus had taught her to always make room and never to shut someone out, and she wanted to live up to that. This was someone who wanted to join in.

 

‘ _Who was she to deny them?_ ’

She blinked. That last thought had felt almost foreign to her.

 

“This?” the boy said and gestured to his shoulder in the sling. “It’s no problem. I can still run, and I can _kick_.” He grinned up at her at that.

“Great! What’s your name?” she smiled. He was quite charming despite his short stature.

“It’s Ron,” the beautiful boy smiled up at her, “Ron Obe.”

“Well, Ron.” Stingy said from behind her. “You can be on _my_ team!”

“Sweet,” he grinned.

 

Ron was good at this. _Really_ good at this.

He was incredibly fast, Stephanie had never seen anyone dribble and side step like that before. Not even Sportacus could move that fast, she thought. The short boy wasn’t bothered by his arm the slightest. Trixie’s and Stephanie’s team were losing big time against Stingy’s.

Frustrated over their impending defeat, Trixie had started to play dirty.

This did not go unnoticed by the opposing team as she roughly shoved and leered at the other players.

Something dark passed behind the short boy’s eyes and though he still was as beautiful as a porcelain doll, the look made chills crawl up Stephanie’s spine and she stood helplessly by as Trixie made the great mistake of trying to take the ball from him by force. With a yelp Trixie stumbled over her own feet and fell to the ground, tearing through her jeans to scrub her knees and the palms of her hands.

“Maybe, you shouldn’t cheat,” Ron sing-sang, looking oddly detached from the girl’s display of pain and kicked the ball square into the net before he turned to her.

“Are you alright?” Stephanie said and crouched down to her friend, who had moved to sit with her bleeding legs outstretched before her and clutching her hands to her chest. Red-faced, Trixie shook her head and fought back tears.

Pixel came to them with a band aid kit they kept around, just in case. “Here.”

Ron joined them on the ground to look at the scrubbed skin. “You’ll need to clean that,” he said and stilled Pixel’s hands from putting on a band aid straight onto the hurt area.

“Oh,” he said and nodded, “okay.”

Trixie hissed and whimpered. “I don’t want to play anymore,” she whined as they poured water and dried her hands and knees, working together. Where was Sportacus? Stephanie wondered. He would normally have reacted and come to help by now. Stingy was the one to say it out loud.

Ron raised his brows in curiosity. “Who’s Sportacus?”

“He’s our local super hero!” Ziggy informed him. “He lives up in that blimp. He’s awesome,” he ducked his head to look at Trixie’s now fully covered knees and hands, “and he usually saves us, or stop accidents.”

Ron looked up to the sky towards the blue blimp. “Does he now? That sounds really cool!”

“Yeah, but he’s apparently somewhere else,” Stingy grouched.

A strange look passed over the boy’s features again. He rubbed his chin and looked down in thought.

 

Pixel was the first to fill the silence and asked, “what are you doing in LazyTown, Ron? Are you moving here just like Stephanie did?”

“No,” the boy shook his head. “I was curious about this town,” he said cryptically. “Actually, I was looking for someone, maybe you could help me?”

“Sure!” Ziggy agreed before even asking what the short boy needed.

The smile turned sharp. There was something _off_ about it. The same way that Robbie could be sometimes. Or, even Sportacus. Their hero was truly, a hero, but, sometimes, just sometimes, his features could be a bit too sharp, his smile just too wide. A sense of otherness that Stephanie couldn’t put her finger on, and she had to assume that it was simply the way he was. He was very special in many ways after all.

 _This_ smile however, made her feel uneasy.

“Do you know of anyone called Robbie Rotten?”

They all collectively looked at each other in astonishment. They sure did. “Why are you looking for that old no good rotten geezer?” Trixie asked, now that she had gotten her bearings about her again and stood up with Stingy’s help.

“I’ve heard a lot of him from a friend and I was curious what was so special about him.”

“There’s nothing _special_ about him. He’s just bad news,” Stingy said.

“Sportacus always have to save us, but mostly Robbie himself, from his plans to make us lazy and quiet.”

“Is that so? Do you know where he is now? He wasn’t at home when I checked.” He looked at them one at a time.

Stephanie didn’t know what made her speak up. The mention of Robbie not being home was strange, not because he usually was, but because this small boy had gone there to seek him out. “He’s with Sportacus, I think.”

“He is?” the group said in unison around her.

“Yes, he’s keeping Robbie safe… I don’t know. It was supposed to be a secret.” Why couldn’t she stop talking? Sportacus had trusted her. Now, she’d be known as a tattle-tale.

Ron tilted his head. “Is Robbie a bad man?”

“Not really. He’s… A loner and grouchy most of the time. But, a little bad, yeah,” Pixel said.

“Robbie isn’t all that bad,” Ziggy said.

Stingy sniffed, “that’s because he always gives you taffy and candy whenever you ask.”

“And you’re the easiest to play tricks on,” Trixie snickered.

Ziggy hung his head again and muttered under his breath that he wasn’t.

Ron piqued at the mention of Ziggy’s love for sweets. “You like candy?” Ron asked.

“Yeah! All types! Taffy, lollies, chocolate. You name it!”

“And sportscandy,” Stephanie reminded him.

“And sportscandy,” the youngest repeated and nodded in affirmation.

“Where I’m from, we have pools of chocolate and taffy. There is so much candy, that you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Yeah, right,” Pixel sounded sceptical.

“It’s true,” Ron said and turned to Ziggy. “I could show you, if you wanted to.”

Ziggy glowed at the prospect. “Really?”

“Maybe some other time,” Stephanie said and took Ziggy by the shoulders. That odd smile was starting to creep her out. Ron was charming, and she was drawn to him, but there was something deeply troubling about all this at the same time. “If you still want to meet Robbie, we can find him for you,” she offered instead.

Ron seemed to think this over, before he declined, “no, but thank you. I think I have all I need.”

“Okay. Uhm, it was fun playing with you, Ron. But, I think we better head home for dinner soon.”

She looked back at Pixel, who in turn looked down at his digital wristwatch to confirm.

“I understand.” He smiled up at them, “but, if you happen to see Robbie. Tell him that the Roman Englishman said hi.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Trixie inquired, scowling.

“He knows,” the boy grinned and skipped away.

 

As sudden as the boy had come into their lives, he was gone without a trace.

 

“Is it just me,” Pixel said and took the ball out of the net, “or was that weird? Like, super weird?”

“Yeah,” Trixie agreed.

So did Stephanie. Ziggy squirmed in her grip and she let go apologetically.

 

They had gone their separate ways home to join their families for dinner and before Ziggy’s curfew began.

 

Two hours later, Ziggy’s parents had called uncle Milford and asked if he was there with her. Because Ziggy still hadn’t turned up long after his curfew.

 

* * *

 

The parents, children, nor Sportacus could find Ziggy anywhere. He had turned the town upside down. Literally.

This was a nightmare come true.

They had searched all night long without a trace of the youngest child. The rest of the children had been put to bed while the adults continued their search, led by the officials and the Zweet’s, until they had to begrudgingly accept that it was too dark now. Ziggy’s parents, both blond and faire, the only resemblance to their rotund missing child, were distraught. Mrs. Zweet, a surprisingly slim woman, cried against her husband’s shoulder.

Sportacus had never felt so useless in his entire life.

And Robbie wasn’t helping. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“There’s always _something_ I can do.” He didn’t need Robbie’s heckling.

“You misunderstood. What you can do right now,” Robbie said and positioned himself in front of him to block out anything else, “is to take a nap.” He lowered his voice, “let the _human_ authorities continue their search and then join them again in the morning.”

How could he expect him to rest, now of all times?!

Mr. Zweet appointed his attention to the two arguing men. “ _You_ ,” he addressed Sportacus, “where were you when our son disappeared? Aren’t you supposed to keep them from harm?”

“Sigfred, stop,” Mrs, Zweet pleaded, but her husband wouldn’t listen.

“Some hero you are,” he spat.

His gut tied into a tight knot. Where indeed? He’d been sitting under a tree. Or, up in his ship. He didn’t know. He hadn’t been there for Ziggy.

Robbie sneered, “and where were you?” right back at the upset man. “Do you expect one guy to look after all of this town’s children? Newsflash; it’s not a public childcare service.”

“Robbie, don’t,” he murmured. He was only going to make it worse.

And that he did.

The blond man scowled. “You watch your tongue, Rotten. All you’ve done is cause trouble from day one with your eccentrics. How do we know that you didn’t go too far this time?” His eyes burned. “Is that what happened, Rotten?”

“What?!” Robbie gawked. “I would _never!_ ”

He had to physically keep the two men away from each other. So did Mrs. Zweet. This wasn’t fair to her. Her son was missing, and her husband had started to throw accusations around towards the very people trying to find his child. The look he shared with her was all he needed to silently agree to leave it for them to handle, until it became light enough outside to continue the search.

Well, Robbie had gotten him to leave with him at last.

“All that’s missing, is if people accuse me of diddling children, and we’re one kindle away from mob justice,” Robbie huffed. His cheeks were spotted with an angry flush.

“Please, don’t talk like that.” The very thought made him feel sick. What if Ziggy- No, he couldn’t bear to think of it.

“Sorry,” he said, sincerely.

 

He didn’t mean to, but he leaned against the taller man. Robbie was warm, felt safe. He idly noted the hand that came up to hold behind his neck in a comforting gesture.

 

“You’re right,” he said eventually and drew reluctantly back, “I need to rest, until we start the search again.”

He turned his gaze up to the dark night sky. “Ladder!” The rope ladder came down on command.

Robbie shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I’ll see you tomorrow? I hope? What are the odds of a third disaster?” he chuckled weakly.

Too high, in his opinion. Sportacus didn’t give him any warning, instead he pulled him tight and called for the ladder to pull them up.

The surprised yell from the man and the hard grip would leave his ears ringing and a new set of fresh bruises.

“Sorry,” he said and let go.

Robbie sank to the floor, wheezing and clutching at his chest. “Could you,” he swallowed hard, “warn a guy the next time? I think saw my life flash before my eyes. _Again_.”

He repeated that he was sorry. “I didn’t want to leave you alone down there,” he explained, “and had I warned you, you would have protested.”

“Damn right I would’ve.”

“Stay there and don’t touch anything.”

Robbie froze in place. He remembered clearly how his little unauthorized visits in Sportacus’ airship turned out. Nearly crashing the ship wasn’t a fond memory for anyone that had been involved. With a few presses of the buttons and a command, the airship’s interface was set to voice command only. “Alright, you can move around now,” he said. Behind him he could hear Robbie getting up to his feet again.

 

Apparently, Robbie was no stranger to odd accommodations and denied his offer to have the bed while he himself slept in the pilot seat in the front. Robbie did however agree to take Sportacus’ pillow and duvet while he settled on the mattress, still in his uniform.

“That’s unsanitary,” Robbie pointed out from the floor, despite being in his own daily outfit.

“I’ll change in the morning.”

 

“Hey, Sportadweeb? What did the other elves say? I mean exactly?”

“Same as you. Íþróttaálfurinn had noted that the statue had come clean off and that he would make inquiries.”

Robbie’s voice was small. “…And Tíu?”

He couldn’t help the ugly feeling of irritation running through him at the question. It felt like jealousy, but how could he be jealous of himself? “The same thing,” he lied. If he kept this up, he would get almost as good at it as the trickster on the floor, he noted sardonically.

“Did he say anything about…”

“No.” He turned on his side away from Robbie. They weren’t enemies and they weren’t friends. He wasn’t sure what they were anymore. Not close to what he wanted anyway. “Go to sleep,” he mumbled before exhaustion took him over for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

Thankfully, this night he didn’t dream, nothing that he could remember anyway. He woke up the next morning feeling sluggish, momentarily confused why his duvet was on the floor and why a mop of curly dark hair stuck out from under it. Then he recalled the events of the previous day and he was up and about in seconds. No incoming letters from the town, no good, nor bad, news so far.

 

Getting Robbie down from the airship… Was harder than tricking him up had been. “Just, hold on and close your eyes.”

“If you free jump out of this door I will- Yeargh!”

 

Another set of fingerprint shaped bruises.

 

“Among the many ways to wake up, that has to be in the top ten of worst ways,” Robbie wheezed.

Sportacus could think of worse ways, but this wasn’t the time.

They found the townspeople gathered in the Town Hall where they had been last night.

“Any news?” he asked.

Bessie shook her head mournfully. “Nothing I’m afraid, Sportacus.”

 

The children had joined them as well again and had donned their reflective vests. They sat in a tight group whispering amongst themselves. Ziggy was a very dear friend of theirs, they were as worried as the adults. His ears picked up on their low conversation.

“Do you think we should tell them about the soccer match?”

“I don’t know if it’s important. Ziggy went missing _after_ the match.”

“Yeah, but,” Stephanie insisted, “I didn’t like how he looked at Ziggy.”

“And he said he knew Robbie too…” Stingy said, his eyes looking tired and hollow as he clutched his piggybank to his chest like a teddy. “Maybe, we should tell Sportacus.”

He approached them and went down on their level. “Tell me what?” he said softly. Anything they knew could be valuable now.

The children shared looks before they nodded as a collective.

“There was something,” Pixel said.

“Anything could be useful.”

“We met this boy named Ron Obe. He joined our soccer game.”

“Okay?” Sportacus hadn’t heard of this new child in town.

“Yeah,” Trixie chimed in and gazed down at her bandaged hands. Apparently, she had taken a tumble during their game. “He was asking a lot of questions. About _you_ ,” she said and looked up directly at Robbie.

“Me?!” he choked and pointed to himself. In the corner Mr. Zweet was seething at Robbie, going, ‘ _I knew it_ ’.

They did _not_ need a lynching.

“Do you know anyone by the name of Ron?” Sportacus asked.

“I’ve never heard of this kid.”

Trixie continued, “he said, that if we met you, that… What was it he said?”

“That the Roman Englishman said hi,” Stephanie filled in.

“The Roman Englishman… What on earth is that supp…” He blanched. “Oh, _oh no_.”

 

Robbie turned to stone. Sportacus had to look back up at him to make sure that the man was still with them.

“Sportacus… Meet me outside,” he hissed into his ear.

 

It was never a good sign when Robbie used his actual name.

 

Sportacus had never seen Robbie disappear that quickly before, he sure could be fast when he wanted to.

He found him just outside the Town Hall, swearing up a storm and pulling at his hair. “Why was _he_ here!? What the blazing hell!?”

“Robbie, what’s going on?”

“Ron isn’t a _kid_. _Ron_ is an _ancient disformed midget sized half breed of a fae!_ ” he ranted.

“You’re not making sense.” He tried to grab onto the frenzied man, but he only tugged free and continued his pacing.

“It’s an old joke. Son of Julius Caesar, and of a Lady of the Secret Isle. Despite, there being a five hundred gap between those two eras.”

“Robbie…”

“Ron Obe,” he met eyes with Sportacus, “ _Oberon_.”

Sportacus finally understood. “The Unseelie King,” he exhaled. “Why was your king here?”

“ _I don_ _’t know!_ ”

 

They now knew what had happened to Ziggy. There were many words for it. _Spirited away, Vittertagen, Taken under the mounds_.

 

Sportacus nodded and went back inside. He managed to get a hold of Robbie’s hand and pulled him with him. Robbie went with the same reluctance as a spitting hissing tomcat, but Sportacus couldn’t care less. They knew where Ziggy was. They could bring him back.

“We know where he is,” he announced, “but we need you to trust us to get him on our own.”

“Why?” Mr. Zweet was not the only one to look at them with distrust now.

“Robbie,” he looked over at the other man, who now had stopped fighting against him and succumbed to staring down at the floor, “and I, are the only ones who can go there.” He turned to the townspeople, to the Zweet’s. “Let me get your son back, before it’s too late,” he pleaded.

“Of course we trust you,” Mr. Meanswell said.

Mrs. Zweet spoke up, “Ziggy always talks so fondly of you two, please bring him back to us.”

 

It didn’t take much more convincing of the Lazytowners than that.

 

“You presume too much. So sure that I will take you there!” Robbie argued when they were back outside again.

“Robbie, _I_ _need you,_ ” Sportacus said, feeling his patience run dry. “I need you to be my guide. I can’t find the Unseelie court on my own, I wouldn’t know where to start.” He took the man’s hand in his own again. “Please, if not for me, then for Ziggy. He doesn’t belong there, he’s not some pet for the court faes to keep.”

Robbie hung his head. “Yes, yes, okay. I’ll help you. I’m going to regret this. But, I’ll help.”

He couldn’t understand how anyone could regret doing the right thing. But, if this was what the man needed, to keep up appearance, then so be it.

 

The children burst out through the front door towards the pair. “Sportacus, Sportacus! Do you really know where Ziggy is?!” Stephanie cried.

“Yes.”

“Can we come with you? Oh, please,” they began begging.

“No, absolutely _not_.” Robbie barked, and he wholeheartedly agreed.

“I’m sorry, but this is something that only Robbie and I can do. You need to stay here and console Ziggy’s parents. You need to not lose hope and remind them of that.” He forced himself to smile. “We’ll have Ziggy back before you know it.”

“We’re wasting time,” Robbie sneered and tapped his shoulder.

“Right. Ladd-”

“No. We can’t take the blimp,” Robbie stopped him and walked in the direction of his lair.

“Does Robbie know what happened to Ziggy?” Stephanie asked.

“Yes, but,” he added and looked after the man who had stopped to look impatiently at them, “he doesn’t have anything to do with this.” He hoped so, anyway.

 

“Why would Oberon take Ziggy under the mound?” Sportacus asked him when they had gone back down into the underground lair. The very place that they had deemed too risky to be in.

“Why do chiefs do anything that they do?” Robbie sighed from his corner as he dug through his belongings. “They don’t answer to anyone, but other chiefs. He probably saw Ziggy, a blond human child the perfect age to take into the court and decided on a whim to grab him.”

Sportacus felt disgusted. This was a practice he vehemently wished had died out ages ago.

“Aha!” the other cried out and tore down a pile of cartons, revealing a bolted metal door. “Still locked, as it should be.”

“What’s this?” He came to stand by the man’s side. The same feeling he’d felt when he’d entered the domain of Cnoc Meadha danced over his skin.

“What do you think, Sportadull, a one-way faery path. It won’t lead us to the court directly, but close enough to the woods.” He grumbled and unlocked it, “I use it for untimely family gatherings.”

The thought that Robbie had this under the town was unsettling. But, no worse than other inventions that the man had introduced them to in the past.

“Then what are we waiting for?!” Sportacus said and opened the door to gaze into a long underground passage. He dashed into it. And blinked. The corridor had been long and winding, yet, he’d barely set foot in it when he found himself in the outskirts of a forest.

“Holy crap, you’re impatient,” Robbie lamented from behind him. “If this is how you solve all problems, then there’s no wonder accidents keep happening.”

Magic, of course. Sportacus spun around to take in their new surroundings. “Where are we?”

“Ehh, dunno. Could be Ontario. The passage keeps moving, depending on the court’s current entrance and the streams.”

Canada?

Robbie saw his befuddlement and explained. “The courts boarders aren’t clear cut or contained by human nations. It’s not east side contra west side, or north against the south. It’s a hopeless patchwork at best.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Welcome to the club.”

His eyes travelled up towards the tree tops of ash and maple. “Robbie,” he said, “I think I’ve been here before.”

“You have?”

“I dreamt of this forest two nights ago, before I came for you.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not! We’ll walk down this path and then it’ll change into fir trees, and then…”

He didn’t look happy. “And then what?”

“Darkness.” Sportacus said and looked up at the other man. “A bog and impenetrable darkness.”

“Now I know that you were just having a nightmare. It will turn into fir trees and such, _then_ we’ll reach one of the openings to the court,” Robbie said. “No bog here. An old royal pain in the neck that claims to be clairvoyant, but certainly no bog.”

“Then,” Sportacus licked his lips, “lead the way.”

 

Despite being a forest Sportacus had never been in before, it was eerily familiar. He could foretell every upturned stub, every twist in the narrow path and as predicted, the trees shifted into pines and fir trees. It was still light outside, not even noon, that was comforting. His eyes flicked to the man in front of him, he wasn’t alone either, however, he wasn’t so sure if that was so comforting. Sportacus’ frame was buzzing with energy. He wanted to run down this path, but Robbie kept insisting on this deliberate slow pace. “Come on, Robbie,” he urged.

“We can’t run head first into the court,” Robbie looked over his shoulder, “and demand that they give up the human child just like that.”

“No, but is this pace necessary?”

“Yes.”

 

They kept walking, it felt agonizingly slow and the buzz kept getting worse, as well as the feeling of being watched.

 

“ _He_ _’s keeping you slow on purpose_ ,” a melodious voice sang among the trees and Sportacus froze in his tracks. Robbie swore and stopped as well. “ _He_ _’s afraid, you see._ ”

“Common sense,” Robbie spat up towards the greenery. “My _king_ ,” he added. The title sounded more as a leer, than tribute.

Sportacus followed Robbie’s gaze but couldn’t see anything more than the leaves, needles and birds.

The voice, Oberon’s voice, aimed at the other man this time. “ _You_ _’re not the only one that_ _’s afraid, I don_ _’t only claim clairvoyance, for I know what he hides._ ”

“Why do older faeries insist on talking _like that,_ ” he muttered irritably under his breath.

“ _The Huldu you keep as company. He_ _’s very afraid. But, not of me._ ”

Robbie scowled, his eyes flickered to him. “What do you mean?”

“ _The invisible,_ ” it laughed, sounding like jingling bells, “ _the hidden people, he_ _’s so afraid that you_ _’ll finally see him_.”

“Robbie,” Sportacus cautioned. He had a bad feeling about this. “We need to find Ziggy, remember?”

“ _Don_ _’t you want to know what he keeps hidden from you?_ ”

“I do,” he said and looked at Sportacus again. He wasn’t sure if he was replying to him, or Oberon’s disembodied mocking voice.

“ _I_ _’ll grant you passage in no time, if Number Ten, our little elfling, shows us his golden locks_.”

Robbie tilted his head and pulled a confused grimace.

 _Elfling?_ Oberon was basically calling him a toddler. “Fine,” he sighed and tore off his hat. It was stupid, Sportacus told himself. It didn’t matter anymore, the only thing that did truly matter was getting Ziggy home. His hair would not change anything.

 

Or, so he had hoped.

 

Robbie gaped at the locks of caramel spilling out from under his hat. Before he finally choked out, “oh no, no, no. You _bastard_.”

His worry, that Robbie would finally recognize and put all the pieces together, was proven true. “Robbie, I-”

 

“The timely absence, the bruised arm, the sketchy acting, and _this!_ ”

 

“ _Maybe, you two want to take this inside?_ ” The floor further in front of them opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Oberon is based on the original Romance "Huon de Bordeaux" from the 13th century. I'll go into further detail in the upcoming chapter. 
> 
> The next chapter wont come until December, I'm afraid. I need to focus on work and Uni right now.
> 
>  
> 
> Ziggy's parents obviously didn't have the Stranger Danger talk with their son.


	4. The Unseelie Court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that you'd have to wait until december, well things turned out longer than expected, so technically the last chapter is still going to be in December.  
> Another inhumanly (hurr hurr) long chapter.

“Robbie, if you would just hear me out.”

“I’m not talking to you,” he gruffed by his side as they descended down the stairs of polished rock. Behind them, the opening in the dirt closed up with the sound of moving rocks and earth, enveloping them in darkness.

Sportacus gave up with a sigh. Robbie had ignored him ever since they’d entered Oberon’s domain. He should count his lucky stars and be thankful that the other man hadn’t tried to throw something at him. It had looked like the man had been seconds from assaulting him with handfuls of dirt after the shock had worn off, when a guard had emerged out of the opening to greet them and lead the way to the grand reception hall.

“Where are we?” he pondered out loud when they entered a hallway in an avenue of pillars, reminding him more of an undercroft, rather than an anteroom.

For claiming that he wasn’t listening, or talking to him, Robbie sure was quick with a new jab. “Must be a gnat in here, or something, I swear I can hear some insistent buzzing. What do you think, Greg?”

The guard leading the way grunted at the nickname Robbie had given the strange looking fae. “For the last time, my name’s _not_ Greg,” the poor guard sighed in exasperation. The slant in their accent was of eastern origin, something that took Sportacus a bit by surprise. His question of their location went unanswered.

“He’s not good with names,” he chimed in. He wasn’t sure what type of fae their guide was, their frame and feathery wings weren’t compatible, not to speak of the birdlike appearance of their red face and the long beard. They pulled their mouth in a wry expression, revealing a line of sharp teeth. They looked like a _Burber_ , the accent made much more sense now. The wings, however? Less so.

Looking around he could conclude that this individual wasn’t the only off-looking one.

Between the pillars, faces and figures peeked out from within the shadows. He had never seen this many hybrids before in one place, he came to realize, as more curious onlookers eyed them while they passed down the strange corridor, that he now figured worked as a gatehouse. The unseelie wasn’t picky on its subordinates’ ancestry. Status was more so dictated by powers and magic, from what he’d understood. The biggest driving wedge between the two large courts in this continent. Here, it was more important what you did, than _who_ you did, to put it crassly. Demi-faes that would’ve been shunned by the Seelie court would be welcomed with open arms in the Unseelie one.

Meanwhile his kind depended more on quick wit and physique, than magic solely. In queen Hildur’s domain, his position was somewhat resembling of an elite guard. But, here, down this hierarchal order, a sports elf such as himself, would most likely be pretty low down in the rungs.

He eyed his disgruntled companion. Robbie was some type of mischievous puck, but as Sportacus had said earlier, he was unusually tall for a hobgoblin, there could very well be a drop of something else down the ancestral line.

Robbie caught him looking and pulled a face at him and picked up his pace to be slightly in front of Sportacus. His shoulders slumped and he bit back a forlorn sigh at the display.

He didn’t know what game this infamous king was playing at, but if it was to create a schism between them, it was working. It had almost felt like they were finding common ground and understanding, until Robbie had realized that Sportacus hadn’t been completely honest.

This was exactly the reaction he had feared. He’d hurt him, and now Robbie would most likely tenfold his attempts of driving him away and cut all brakes on his future antagonizing behaviour. If only Robbie would let him explain himself and tell him… And tell him what? That Robbie was the one to have called him handsome and flirted in the first place, _when he was comparing him to his real identity_ , and made it near impossible for him to reveal his face after that sort of admission? The other man would not listen to that weak excuse of an argument. Sportacus could have stopped it from becoming too intimate. But truth be told, he had been selfish and enjoyed the full tender attention of the trickster. Being able of getting a glimpse of the man’s multifaceted character when he didn’t scorn his very existence. These past days had been a real eye opener for him. He’d never figured himself a glutton for pain, but that’s what he had been doing ever since their paths had crossed, hadn’t he? More often than not, Sportacus wasn’t forced to agree to engage in the man’s wagers of kicking him out of town, he could have declined, multiple times, instead he’d reasoned that the kick he got out of a challenge outweighed putting himself on the line, again and again and again.

And for what?

The answer lied in the form of the tense wide shoulders in front of him.

 

They reached another set of stairs leading deeper below the surface in a spiral. It was dimmer lit by clusters of glowing glass drops, enough to see the polished steps and the fossils trapped within the stonework. He could feel the weight of the earth resting over them with every step leading them further down. The heavy atmosphere was stifling, almost suffocating. He’d never felt like this when he’d been in Álfaborg, or under any other mound, and you could easily forget that you were under the earth. Here however, you were constantly reminded that you were far underground.

By his side Robbie miscalculated his step.

“Ugh, I hate these stairs,” he grouched and caught himself from stumbling in the dim light. “Sure, bring us through the backdoor won’t you,” he continued griping, “that’ll leave an ill-boding impression.”

By reflex, Sportacus shot out an arm to catch the taller of them and stabilize him. “Careful.”

“I didn’t ask _you_ ,” he sneered and attempted to shake off the hand on his arm.

“Robbie-”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of deceit,” he spat and tore himself loose, however he didn’t continue his descent, “you liar.”

 

The antagonistic behaviour had now completely, and not surprisingly, shifted over into pure childish vitriol.

 

They couldn’t keep doing this. Was there somewhere they could talk in private? He looked over to the guard, but the nameless fae remained stoic a couple of steps below them, waiting diligently.

Robbie continued regardless. “What else is a lie, is your name even Sportaflop?” He leered, “Perjurercus?”

He showered him in equal inane, and scatching, insulting versions of his name. At ‘ _Sportafraud_ ’ he had had enough. This was probably as much privacy they would have, until they got out of here. Decision made, he took hold of Robbie’s arm again to keep him in place. “Enough.”

“I’m only warming up.” Robbie glared down at him, challenging him, but did not do any new attempts to get out of Sportacus’ hold.

“I’m sorry I lied to you.” He tried to pour as much sincerity as he could into the apology. It was received with as much cordiality as could be expected.

He screwed his face up in a grimace. “If you’re so sorry,” he sneered, “then why did you do it?” Each sentence building up in a crescendo. “Did you want to have a laugh at me? Is this some sick joke to you?!” His voice cracked at the last one and so did it feel like Sportacus himself did.

That was the last thing this mess was to him. “No, I… I wanted to let you have a taste of your own medicine. It was meant to be a harmless prank.”

“I knew it.”

“Let me finish.” He tried to choose his words with care. “I was going to tell you it was me, when you approached me on the floor.”

“And what about all that bull afterwards of being diplomatic leverage then?”

Right, there was that as well. “Also true. I was told to either stay away, or make amends by our diplomat, and then you approached me and...” The furious look on the taller man’s face was not a good sign.

“I didn’t figure you for a _court player_. Bravo.”

“ _I_ _’m not_. You sought me out because you wanted information about _me_. You called me names, behind my back, in front of a stranger.” The other was looking for a fight and Sportacus felt more and more inclined so too. “How is it that _I_ _’m_ the one who did wrong?” This wasn’t going the direction he wanted, he’d raised to Robbie’s bait.

“Because, you’re not supposed to lie and deceive! Don’t you get it? You’re the blasted hero!” Robbie yelled in his face, “you shouldn’t be able to sink to my level, you’re the champion, or whatever you called it!”

“I’m a _person!_ ” he lobbed right back. All this time, Robbie had put him on some moral high pedestal? That was somehow worse. “I’m a slightly above average hero, not a, a saint… I make mistakes, just like you.” They had completely forgotten about the onlooking guard as they both were up in each other’s space.

“And that’s what it was,” he said, his tone cold, “ _a mistake?_ ”

“Not telling you the truth was the mistake. I meant what I said back then… I wanted to dance with you.”

“I don’t believe you. Why did you really do it? Why did you let me…?” he trailed off, stopping himself from finishing that sentence.

 

“Maybe, it was nice...” Putting his jumble of conflicting feelings into words was hard, he swallowed and pressed on, “it was nice, for at least one evening, to pretend that you didn’t hate me.” Robbie gave him a wide-eyed look as he continued, “we were both having a good time and I didn’t want to ruin that. You hate me, and _I like you_ , and I don’t know what to do about it, so I kept silent. I’m sorry, okay. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because, Because, Because I’m _Rotten!_ ” he stammered as he flared up again. “I’m bad to the core!” Even in this dim light, Sportacus could see the ugly spots of red creeping up the other man’s neck and cheeks in a dark flush. Was the concept of someone liking the man, without ulterior motives, that foreign to him?

“You’re _not_. I know it, because, you and I are here for the same reason _; to save Ziggy and bring him home_.”

Neither of them dared to look at each other, he saw Robbie’s hands twitch by his sides, but he couldn’t look up at his face. Not this soon after admitting to him, and to himself, how he felt.

He stepped away to give the flustered man his space back. This had gotten them nowhere, but, hopefully they had aired enough to work together, just for a little while longer.

Morally questionable, yes. But, Robbie wasn’t truly a bad man. ‘ _What you are; is a hypocrite,_ _’_  he thought with finality.

 

A low nervous cough brought them out of their bubble and back to the here and now.

 

The guard looked like they wished to be anywhere else but there at the very moment. He couldn’t blame them. “Take it from me, I think you two need couple’s counselling,” they mumbled and shifted their weight uneasily.

“You’re not very helpful, Greg, you know that?” Robbie grumbled and carried on with their descent.

When the, at least partly, burber thought you had relationship issues, you knew it was bad. He gave the fae an apologetic smile as he too followed Robbie downwards.

 

They exited the spiral stairway and into the real antechamber by a concealed side door, the supressing feeling of the weight of the rock above them went away with a pop. He blinked in the harsh light, trying to adapt quicker to the change.

 _This_ , was more what he’d expected in terms of presentation. White, gold and crimson. He was pretty sure the style could be described as rococo. Chandeliers high up in the ceiling glimmered as painted silhouettes of grape vines snared their ways down the white walls and into the marble floor in intricate patterns. Statuettes of satyrs holding up a table top in the centre and extravagantly gilded paintings and chairs, all in in gold, lined the sides of the chamber.

Someone had a taste for flamboyancy. And for a change, it wasn’t Robbie.

The man himself didn’t stop, but marched over to the pair of double doors in red and waited impatiently for Sportacus to catch up. A somewhat wry expression crossed his features at Sportacus’ own amazed one. “You should close your mouth, or you’re going to catch flies.”

Well, they were talking to each other again. That had to count for something.

 

The antechamber had only been a small taste of the splendidness that was the grand hall behind the doors. The hall bathed in a golden shimmer and it felt like stepping into a dream. Crimson banners stretching from the painted ceiling down into every corner. The air was thick with magic and glamour making anything at the edges of his peripheral vision somewhat hazy. A sizeable portion of the live-in court was there today. Tables were brimming with delicacies and fae dressed in fine garments were attending this great cavernous hall, whispering among themselves at their arrival. He looked around himself, trying to spot any trace of Ziggy in this mesh of people, but to little avail. The mass divided away from them, as they made their way further in. Their guide had stayed at the doors, giving them a small nod and pitying glance before they’d closed the doors behind them, and disappeared out of sight.

And there, on a throne of gilded gold and lush red lining, was the king whose voice had mocked them in the woods.

Oberon looked like the cat who got the milk. The pure embodiment of smug.

Truth be told? Sportacus had thought that the infamous King of the Unseelie would be… _Taller_. He’d heard that the king was a creature of beauty and the sources had been right. The king was beautiful indeed, a youthful face with unblemished skin and blushed cheeks. On top of his dark curly hair was the golden band signalling his status as chief and the glitter in the bejewelled gown he wore stung in Sportacus’ eyes from all the studded precious stones in it. A perfect presentation of wealth and power.

The thing that stuck out however, and that the sources certainly hadn’t retold, was the king’s short stature. He was a little shorter than a meter and although he looked healthy, his right shoulder was crooked and slumped. A congenital deformation, affecting the short faery king’s posture as he sat leaning onto the side of the throne and rested on his healthy arm while the deformed one idly strummed on a golden lyre of some kind.

On instinct he bowed at the presence of the foreign chief. Oberon made an amused sound at the display. “Thank you for having us,” he said and straightened up to approach the throne.

“Númer Tíu,” the royal fae acknowledged from his seat.

Robbie made a muffled noise somewhere behind him at the formal title.

“Does your queen know that one of her Numbered Heroes is in my court? Without proper arrangements, or without even seeking a formal audience?” he purred.

Sportacus had broken a long list of international agreements just by entering Canada unannounced. _This_ could be seen as a breach of contract, if he didn’t come here with good reason. “I don’t think so?”

Oberon clicked his tongue and held his gaze with drowning dark eyes, until he gave a small nod, appearing pleased with the admission.

“Rotten,” Oberon addressed the other visitor, “step closer, so I may have a look at you, I haven’t seen you since you were a baby.”

Robbie did as told, standing right next to Sportacus, looking anything but happy with the arrangement.

“I went to see you in LazyTown, but I’m afraid you weren’t present to entertain guests for the short time I had to spare.”

“I noticed. I’m… _We_ _’re_ here for Ziggy.” Robbie chanced a glance down at him and Sportacus felt somewhat better. They could at least present a united front, for now.

However, maybe the Unseelie weren’t as big on formality as Sportacus was used to, but he was pretty sure that Robbie was violating several protocols and rules of etiquette right now with his bluntness.

“Ah yes, the human child.” He called out over the grand hall, “Ziggy, you got friends visiting!”

 

“Sportacus!” He jolted at the familiar cry of his name and whirled around to locate the source. Ziggy threw himself into his arms in a tight embrace.

“Ziggy, are you alright?” he asked and took in the form of the child in his arms.

“I’m alright,” he laughed and hopped out of his hold. “You need to see this place, it’s so cool!”

“…Your clothes.”

“Do you like them? He twirled around. “Ron and I are playing. I’m a prince.” The sheet he usually donned was replaced by a cape of scarlet velvet. His entire outfit underneath it was replaced with finery in cream white and royal blue.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and didn’t answer. They’d dressed him up like a doll for their amusement.

“Hey there,” Robbie greeted the child.

“Robbie, you’re here too?” Ziggy beamed up at the taller man.

“Evidently.” Robbie turned back to Oberon. “Why?” A too open question. _Why had Oberon come to LazyTown? Why had he taken Ziggy?_

“Your lack of respect does you little favours, Rotten, but if you must know.” A dramatical sigh as he drew one of his short legs up. “Your name kept resurfacing. Insistent whispers that you were starting trouble and sought refuge with the Huldu.” His cherubic face turned hard and threatening. “I’m trying to govern a people here, juggling human treaties, all while Diana’s inbred cattle keeps creeping along _my_ borders. I came looking for answers.” Sportacus could feel the voice vibrating in his very bone, and _he_ wasn’t the one on the receiving end of it.

Robbie shrunk in on himself. The power balance making itself reminded finally.

“Of course, the nature of your companionship with the elf is a bit clearer now,” he grinned and locked eyes with Sportacus. He didn’t know how clairvoyancy worked, but the monarch must’ve picked up on their particular dilemma from miles away.

“Companionship is a bit of a stretch, your highness.” Robbie said and somehow managed to hunch further down to make himself look smaller.

A couple of chuckles spread over the grand hall at their expense, someone wolf whistled and even Sportacus ducked his head in embarrassment.

The monarch winked. “But, aren’t we all friends here? I threw together a little reception just for you, so you can spend time with our latest addition. It’s been too long since we had a human in our halls, they are such charming creatures, don’t you agree?” Ziggy ran up to the throne and bounced up by his side like a knee dog, happily taking and playing with the strange lyre that had been resting by the king, Sportacus realised that it wasn’t a lyre at all when the boy held it in more plain view, but an unusually small golden hunting bow. “I fully understand how this one in particular had your fancy, Rotten.”

“You’re talking funny, Ron,” Ziggy declared. “Is it because you’re a king?”

“Yes, and you’re a prince, Ziggy.” He took the golden bow from him. “Careful with that.” _Ron_ , as Ziggy had called him, nudged him to hop down. “Why don’t you play with your other friends before they have to leave?”

“Okay,” the boy agreed and jumped down to run back towards the pair.

 

“What’s he up to?” Sportacus whispered in Robbie’s ear.

“He grabbed the kid because he’s the least annoying one, I have no idea why he needed to drag us all the way here though.”

Ziggy tugged at them both to follow. “You won’t believe this, but they have like, all the candy in the world! And Sportacus, they even got Sportscandy, it’s sweeter than any lolly I tasted at home, but I bet even you could eat them!”

 

He’d eaten the food.

 

Oberon’s melodious voice laughed at their distraught faces.

“The child is rightly ours. He happily partook in our food and drinks. Besides,” Oberon smiled sharply and crossed his ankles, “I don’t think that Ziggy _wants_ to leave.”

“Ziggy,” Sportacus pleaded and rested on his hunches to get on the boy’s level, “wouldn’t you like to go home? Your parents miss you, so does everyone else. What do you say about going back to them?”

The child pursed his lips and knit his brow, “I guess, but they could always come here too! Like you did!” He smiled wide again, content with the flawless argument and logic of a six-year old.

Robbie groaned in frustration. “Yeah sorry, but, that’s poppycock. If we’re going by those traditions of claim, then the kid is already rightfully mine, or even Sportacus’. The ankle biter eats pretty much anything colourful you put in front of him.” The people around them murmured at the information. Their king scoffed.

Crass, but ultimately true.

So, they were at a deadlock. But, Sportacus, and Robbie too, knew the real reason behind the tradition. A human that had once had a taste of the faery dishes would never be able to appreciate what humanity had to offer. _Poic Sidhe_ , Faery touched. Humans that had spent too much time under the mound coming back being mentally altered. But, Ziggy was still young and very impressionable, there was still time to bring him back and rehabilitate him, before the outside world of the court faded from his mind completely.

There had to be some way to sway the court into granting them the child.

He looked up at Robbie, silently pleading. “Any ideas?” he asked, hoping that the man’s clever mind would come up with something useful.

Robbie scrunched up his face and tapped his foot in thought. “Yeah, I got nothing, sorry,” the trickster replied.

 

It was up to Sportacus then. ‘ _Come on, anything_ ’, he racked his brain. He looked up to the king to see him adjust the strange hunting bow again. And it hit him. It was a bad idea. A terrible one and he wasn’t even sure if the royal would raise to the bait.

In some senses, Sportacus was like any other fae; he loved a challenge. A trait Oberon surely wasn’t above either. “That’s an interesting bow you have there, your highness.”

“This? Yes, it is my favourite. I’ve never missed a shot with it,” he replied flippantly.

 

It was what Robbie would call a trash idea, but, at least he had an idea. “Your grace? How about a wager?”

The king leaned back on his side in newfound interest. “What did you have in mind?”

“What would you say about an arching competition?”

“And what would there be to wager?”

“The claim on Ziggy.”

To his side, Robbie squawked in outrage. It was too late to go back now anyway, Robbie’s strong opinions would have to wait.

The king appeared to mull this over. He pursed his rosy lips before they turned into a smirk. “I’ve heard that Nordic elves are excellent marksmen. Are you as good with a bow as the rumours has it?”

Sportacus grinned, feeling sure. “There would only be one way to find out, your highness.”

Oberon laughed at the cocky comment. “I see why Ziggy is so fond of you two. Yes, why not? A little friendly competition between comrades and with the child as the winning prize,” he smiled.

Robbie grabbed his shoulder to hiss in his ear. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to get Ziggy out of here.”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “no, you’re going to get us all killed.”

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t clairvoyant by any means, but he could surely predict the outcome of the wager; Ziggy spending the rest of eternity down here as a court pet and Robbie stone cold dead… And Sportacus…  Whatever he deserved. It wasn’t like he cared.

That was a lie.

He cared. A lot.

Robbie was an idiot, a blind idiot on top of that. He should’ve made the connection the moment the kids brought up the injured arm. The damsel in distress had been _him_ all this time. Hell, he should have made the connection the very second he saw him at the Connacht court.

Robbie had a whole lot of feelings regarding him, and none of them were dispassionate.

 

He wondered if it was too late to take a page out of Glanni’s book and become a raging alcoholic.

 

He gripped the shorter man’s shoulder harder and turned him to face him properly. “Don’t you think it’s strange that the king with the _crooked shoulder_ is an expert shot with a _bow?_ ”

“What?”

“It’s _enchanted_ ,” he growled. Sportacus expected the king to play fair. You didn’t keep the throne for as long as Oberon had, even less so for how ancient the youthful looking faery actually was, by playing fair!

The realization dawned on Sportacus, his gaze flicked over to where Ziggy was playing before he looked up to him again with a thin smile. “I guess I’ll have to be better then.”

“Well, we’re toast,” Robbie mumbled and let go.

“It’s this or nothing, Robbie. Have a little faith.”

He had a waiting remark to throw in his face, but their attention was drawn away to a couple of servants that were gesticulating for Sportacus to step forth to them.

 

“Pick any bow that you’ll think will fit you best, Númer Tíu,” the royal clucked, “I’ll happily lend it to you during the contest. We’d want it to be fair after all.”

‘ _Fair, you got to be kidding_ _’_. The only thing the elf could have picked that would’ve been worse was a distance course! Robbie could flick out of someone’s mind and appear to teleport for a distance for as long as he could trick someone’s eye with a glamour. Oberon on the other hand, was the real deal. Someone had had a fieldtrip when Oberon came to be. Eternal youth, clairvoyance, teleportation?! It sounded like when the kids where playing pretend and their personas abilities grew more and more outrageous. Throw in a couple of enchanted objects and it was all set for an extreme edition of king of the hill, or, well, under the hill he supposed in this case.

“Wish me luck,” Sportacus sighed with a chuckle.

“Break a leg.”

Sportacus looked up with a frown.

“It’s an expression not to jinx it,” he explained. “Go get ‘em.”

Sportacus nodded at him before he ran to inspect the various bows.

 

He was worrying more than called for, he told himself. Sure, Oberon had an enchanted bow, but archery was a sport, right? And thus far he’d never seen Sportacus not master a sport. It was in his name for crying out! The sports elf was an absurd athlete and a crack shot… On the other hand, Oberon had an enchanted bow…

Yeah, they were definitely toast.

Robbie hung back to sulk and watch the elf pick up a bow from a large chest. He’d put on his hat again the moment they’d entered the opening in the ground. Not that it mattered. The image was burnt into his mind and he studied the profile of the hero’s face and frame, putting the missing visual pieces of the puzzle together.

He wanted to go back to being furious, he had every right in the world to be mad.

It had made sense now, the sketchy rigid acting, the man had probably been trying hard not to spill the beans and had silently laughed behind his back every time Robbie, like a lovestruck prepubescent loser, had brought up the mysterious elf he’d met. Taking his anger out on the man would be righteous. They were supposed to be at opposite ends of the spectrum. Robbie was a villain, lying and cheating was in his nature, and Sportacus was supposed to be this paragon of virtue, everything that was fair and just. Or, so he’d thought. But, no, apparently the elf had not been above deceit either. It made his worldview tilt on its axis. It was easier to lash out and fight, than chance that Sportacus had been speaking the truth up in the shoddy stairwell. Claiming that the intention behind the dishonesty never had been malicious. Claimed that he’d _… Liked him?_

Probably in a platonic manner, like his admission that he cared for him no less than the other townspeople.

He watched the man discard bow after bow, what for he did not know. Their eyes met, and the other’s lips quirked in a small reassuring smile that made Robbie fist his hands hard enough to feel his blunt nails dig into the palm of his hands.

And that left Robbie with his own confused feelings on the matter.

It had been Sportacus. It had always been Sportacus. Hadn’t he crossed the line and advanced on the masked stranger, just because he reminded him of the local hero? Because he was too much of a coward to make amends with the real deal and try his luck there? Númer Tíu, Number Ten! The clues had been blaringly obvious, but Robbie was excelling in the art of blocking inconvenient things out and had told himself that anything else that would imply otherwise was nothing but wishful thinking.

This would have to wait, now they needed to win a contest that was not in their favour and figure out what the hell Oberon wanted, the pint sized royal still hadn’t explained what he’d want with Robbie. Someone had been whispering in the faery’s ear, painting him as being a threat, or something or the other. Another thing that bothered him; his small wayward family wasn’t present, why, he did not know either. It would be a big deal and a family matter if the youngest got in the king’s focus, he thought. Maybe word had not reached their ears yet? He did spot a few of his mother’s associates however. Amongst them the hag, not an insult she was an actual hag after all, with the peacock feathers was there and they shared a nod of acknowledgement towards the other. She’d gone with a much similar outfit in green and excessive use of tail feathers it would seem.

He was severely underdressed compared to anyone here really, but hey, if you found a niche you liked you stuck by it. Some liked birds, Robbie liked purple and orange, the fellow with the moustache, that was another one of the Glæpur matriarch’s circle of associates, clearly had gone bananas on fish scales, better not get _his_ attention. He moved closer to the elf and human child, to the middle of the grand hall where they had started to make space for what would be a shooting range. Without all the magic, he wondered what the hall would really look like. Power outlets and wires had a tendency to cheapen the aesthetics and ruin the mood.

 

“Robbie Rotten?” a voice like gravel inquired as he passed by, momentarily drawing his attention away from his objective trying out the different bows for the competition.

He turned around to see a goblin-woman in plain black clothing standing directly behind him. “Do I know you?” He squinted down at her. The red hair was about as natural as Stephanie’s pink bob and was what he first noticed, before he took in the face shyly peeking out from under the bangs. There was something familiar about her. Hopefully not some long-lost cousin, or worse, one of Glanni’s jilted lovers. She was by no means conventionally pretty, not with her droopy red eyes, long protruding teeth and general malnourished appearance, but Glanni had never been picky in the past.

“I was at Cnoc Meadha, maybe I’m not that recognizable without a gaggle of children running away from me,” she said lowly.

Ah, the caretaker. “Don’t quit your day job, watching kids isn’t your strongest suite.”

“I’m sorry about that and that’s why I came. To warn you. People think that it was one of my charges that caused the statue to fall, but I saw something that I think you should know.” The haggard woman glanced around them and lowered her voice. “I think someone is trying to kill you.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” he snorted. Had she been under a rock? A figure of speech, as far as he knew, she might literally have her haunt under a boulder.

Her droopy eyes widened. “You do? Then, you really need to see this.”

She had physical evidence? “Great, show me.”

“Not here,” the stranger mumbled and looked around them. “Too many eyes.”

That was true, he drew back his upper lip, an unconscious bad habit, as he weighed his options. “Will it take long?” He did want to know, and passing up an opportunity like this? Unthinkable.

She shook her head fervently. “No, it will only take a moment of your time.” The woman tugged at his wrist with long talons for fingers for him to follow. “This way, quickly.” He cast one last look over his shoulder, trying to catch the elf’s eye. Oh, well. Hopefully the goblin’s show and tell would be over quickly and Robbie would re-join them, this time with information on who in the blazes was trying to make his life shorter.

 

“So, what happened to the statue then? Enlighten me,” he inquired as they snuck out by one of the many, many, side doors of the grand hall and out of nosy noble’s hearing.

“You might be surprised to hear this, but a pinch of human made demolition powder and a crack in the stonework,” she answered cryptically as she led the way down a couple of crude stairs. This part of the domain wasn’t for show and splendour. He figured they were down in the utility rooms and stocks. A servant in red scurried in the opposite direction, short, must be a dwarf, though he didn’t see their face. The goblin-woman’s feet clopped against the stone floor and he caught the reflection of steel caps while his gaze was lingering downwards. Well, you never knew what rowdy kids could drop on your feet.

“Not really,” he sniffed, after the dwarf had disappeared out of hearing range, “I’ve done it myself multiple times.”

That made sense. The first instinct of foul play when it came to the fair folks was always magic. Bring in a little modern day human craft and you would rearrange the whole playing field. They weren’t any advanced forensics to tell the difference.

She smiled up at him, it was uneven and sent chills up his spine. “Will it pique your interest that I know who wants you dead, then?”

“Wait, you know who’s trying to off me?” She hadn’t said anything about _that_. This was too good to be true. “Who?”

“A paid killer.” She guided him to one of the stockrooms and unlocked it, gesturing for him to go first. He hesitated. What was it they said about things being too good to be true again? He eyed the seemingly empty room.

“Yeah but, _who?_ Whose toes did I accidentally step on?”

“Whose feathers did you ruffle more like, the lady is very interested that you keep your mouth shut.”

Several warning alarms went off in his head. You didn’t need a crystal to know that something severely wrong was going on.

“I don’t think this is necessary, why don’t you show me here outside instead?” He stopped by the threshold of the small stockroom and braced his hands on the framework of stone.

“But, don’t you want to know how the killer got you into the water?” the gravelly voice inquired behind him.

“Well yeah, but… What?”

Wait? How could she know about the drowning? No one outside of Sportacus and himself knew about that.

He turned to her with big eyes. “How do you-?”

The ghastly grin was warning enough that he’d walked straight into a trap, like the bumbling fool he was.

He pushed away from the stonework, ready to leg it back upstairs.

 

He didn’t get far, barely three feet as he froze mid-step, feeling the burn of a cold iron blade merely a hairsbreadth from his jugular. Knife. Definitely a knife.

He followed her diligently into the room as she pushed him and locked them in. He got an eyeful of the blade in her hand and its distorted pattern. Meteoric Iron. Where had she gotten her hands on _that?!_

Not only were true Cold Iron blades rare, they were expensive! The handle had to be a newer addition made out of jade and what looked like carvings of peacocks.

That thing would’ve cost an arm and a leg, along with a bag of kittens, and that was _outside_ of the Goblin Market!

She took off what turned out to be a wig, revealing a dark red bandana tied over her head. It was wet and glistened ominously in the light. Robbie’s gut dropped.

This was bad. Really, really, _really bad!_

“A, Aren’t you… A far way from any ruins to haunt?” He backed away slowly. “I thought _Redcaps_ were courtless an, and, and banned from here?” Something told him this wasn’t Oberon’s doing after all.

She shrugged. “I free-lance.”

“Marvellous.” Getting her jollies off by killing, _and_ getting paid for her troubles, truly an entrepreneur. “Honestly? I also thought redcaps were all male,” his face tugged into a nervous smile accompanied by his tic. “Sorry for coming off as a misogynist.”

“And babies are brought by the stork?” she raised one naked brow at him. “You know, I’m glad that I got to do this close and personal, even if my benefactor won’t let me cut you up like a pig.” She sheathed the blade and put it out of view in a side pocket. So, not knifed to death then?

Where the hell was Sportacus?!

“Anytime now, Sportaflop,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

Was that stupid crystal _still_ acting up?

 

She advanced upon him. His gaze frantically searched the small room, looking for any kind of exit beyond the locked door. All there was, was a few chairs and a massive wooden table. He took one of the chairs and held it before him, as if he was trying to ward off a beast in one of his ploys.

The chair got torn out of his grip and smashed to pieces. The redcap giggled at his vain attempt as he ran to the other side of the table. There was nothing human in the sound, not even for a goblin. Excitement glinted in her droopy eyes. The crazy degenerate was actually getting off on this. And here Robbie thought things couldn’t get worse.

“Come here, boy.”

“Lady, I don’t even know you!” He dove and rolled to the other side of the room as she threw herself at him. “Maybe we can work something out?” He ducked away from her again.

 

She didn’t have Sportacus’ vitality, there was that at least. Hunting, outrunning and engaging in challenges with the hyper elf had given him an edge of evading the redcap trying to get a hold of him.

 

That was until she decided to throw the table at him.

 

Taken completely by surprise, the impact sent him crashing to the ground and he tried to crawl away from her, with little luck. She kicked him hard with her steel capped shoe and he rolled onto his side in pain.

“I was told to make it look like an accident. Otherwise, I could’ve just gone the traditional route and bludgeon you to death and call it a day. But,” she said and firmly put her foot on his chest to hold him in place on his back. “I think I have a different idea.” His assailant toed the clasp of his belt and smiled mockingly. “I could have you hanging from the rafters. Poor, Mr. Rotten hung himself when he realized that he’d been used by his beloved elf and lost his favourite human child to the court. What do you think of that?”

“I think it’s a horrible idea,” he squeezed out.

She snorted.

For her haggard frame she was heavy and steadfast, as she straddled his chest and clamped down her hands around his neck.

He kicked out from underneath her, trying to buck her off and clawed at her arms and face. If anything, his struggling excited her further as she squeezed harder around his neck in morbid glee and with her long sharp teeth displayed fully in a death skull grin.

There was a bang somewhere, but he wasn’t sure, he was a little preoccupied at the moment.

The sound of his blood roared in his ears and his sight was beginning to dim when the pressure around his throat ceased abruptly.

Her eyes widened, and she looked down on him in surprise, before she slumped down to the ground, stunned.

“Uh, what?” Robbie scrambled away from under his would be killer and looked up to see, to his surprise not Sportacus, but a short harsh looking woman standing in the space the crazy redcap had previously occupied. In the doorway stood three other individuals, two men and a younger woman. All four of them wore servant clothing in various shades. At first glance he thought they were dwarfs, they were of the same stocky built, but their charcoal black hair and the men’s lack of beard threw him off momentarily. Taking in their features and complexion he realized that they were _the little people_. “Mikumwesuk, I presume?” his voice cracked. He rubbed his throat and coughed. This would leave a beautiful necklace of bruises.

“ _Gora_ ,” she spat back at him and bent down to retrieve the keys from his assailant.

“That’s a yes then.” He licked his lips and his gaze flicked down to the immobilized redcap and back up to his saviour. “Thank you. I assume the intent was to save me? Because, I’ve had a long day and if you too want me dead, I’ll kindly have to ask you to get in line.”

“Chatty one, isn’t he?” one of the native spirits said from the door, he was kneeling and chuckled. Robbie didn’t see what was so funny in the situation.

An older man eyed him with streaks of grey in his hair. “You’re here with the archer, to save the human child?”

The archer had to be Sportacus. “Yes,” he nodded and winced, ohh he was sore. He rolled up onto his knees and patted the redcap for where he’d seen her stash the blade.

He had gotten a firm grip on its handle when the mikumwee woman roughly pulled him up and ushered him towards the exit. “She’s rousing.” Whatever spell the mikumwess had used, it was abating quickly.

Robbie did not want to hang around for a second round of _tag you’re dead_. He turned around in time to see that the redcap was indeed getting back on her feet. Her face was dark with murderous intent and fury. Nope, definitely not staying for that. Man, was he glad that he’d decided to take the blade off her hands. The door slammed shut behind him and they locked it.

“Catch.” She threw the key ring to the one that had knelt. He saw him pocket it, along with what looked like a lockpicking set. Robbie had a similar one, at home, where it was doing him no favours whatsoever.

“On a scale of Stupid Easy to Fort Knox, how easy is this lock to bypass?” he gestured to the archaic keyhole under the door handle that was furiously wiggling and banging upon now.

The fae looked up at him and scoffed, “kindergarten.”

Yeah no, that wouldn’t do at all. The raging maniac would be out in minutes, unless she brought the door down first. He patted himself down. Fake moustache, never leave home without one. A half-eaten candy bar, no… Ah, bubble gum!

“Gum?” he held out the package. The group of native faes eyed his offer sceptically, wondering what he was up to now. “Anyone? No?”

The redcap roared in unbridled rage from the other side of the barrier between them and threw her full weight upon the door, making them all jolt in surprise at the sickly crunching noise. Oh, that would come back to haunt his dreams later on, he just knew it.

“Hold on a second,” he said and chewed, before he spat out the sticky ball of chewing gum in his hand and jammed it into the locking mechanism of the door. Good luck bypassing _that_.

Feeling like MacGyver for his feat, he put his hands on his hips and yelled profanities at the other side of the door.

She replied in enraged screeches.

The surprise hero dragged him away from the door and towards her little entourage.

The native spirits were murmuring within their group. The other woman, in the same red as the servant he’d seen on the way down he realized, was gesticulating at him. He had no idea what they were saying. He recognized a word here and there, but that was it.

“Quebec?” he asked.

“Yes, and _New Brunswick_ ,” the woman answered him, putting emphasis on the region’s name.

Ah, a joint venture between different tribes. Wait… New Brunswick?

“You’re Glæpur’s son, aren’t you?”

Oh crap. He held his hands up in front of himself. “Hey, hold on. Yes, that’s true. But, I have no claim on land in that area at all, I’m the youngest, _the spare_.” Maybe, they would get in line to off him as well after all.

She gave him a funny look. “You… Have no idea what going on do you?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell people this whole time! I don’t know what the hell is happening, I just want to grab the kid, smack that stupid elf over the head, and go back home.” And then sign up for years of therapy to process the trauma, but that went without saying really at this rate.

They returned to muttering between themselves until they seemed to reach a consensus and addressed him again.

The eldest got the honour of speaking. “We reside and use the land as we wish in New Brunswick. An unsatisfying arrangement, since most of it was ours to begin with. But, it has worked in our favour, until now.”

“How noble.” Robbie didn’t see the problem then. After the treaty fiasco the humans struck with their fellow human natives, this was a better deal than driving them off or refusing them to use the land… If the price wasn’t too steep that was. “And?”

The woman that had stunned the redcap sneered in frustration. “Not only are we forced into silence while you gut _our_ land-”

Robbie cut her off. “Excuse me if everyone is insisting on talking in circles! Can someone please just give me the rundown? Is that too much to ask?!”

“These ‘ _invading forces_ ’” she did quotation marks with her hands, “don’t exist. Instead, we’ve seen more Unseelie dressed up as Seelie, waving their banner and acting _very_ hostile. Is that enough summary for you?”

He had thought something funny was going on. But no physical landgrabs, at all? Then what was all the shouting and raving about? “Wait, wait, wait, hold up. Lemme see if I got this right. No Seelie faffing about your neck of the woods?” They nodded. “And those that are there are Unseelie playing pretend?

“Yes, the fool finally understands,” one of them said in the back, the one that had picked the lock.

 

 _The fool_ understood a little more than that. The Unseelie and Seelie were not invading each other’s random patches of land.

The answer eluded him just out of his grasp. ‘ _Think, Robbie, think._ ’

Unseelie pretends that Seelie are all over the northeast, as a whole most likely. No one outside of the courts and the tribes knows whose land is whose, or even that native faeries exist in these regions… So far, not too farfetched.

Robbie had pointed out the obvious, that the native spirits that owned the actual land in-between the hopeless patchwork wasn’t present and most likely silenced, and had set off someone, someone that had heard him... Because? Because, then people would start asking questions.

In his own zigzag way, the picture made perfect sense.

Paranoid royals not present, check.

Barely legitimate diplomats that would be overrun by the pros, check.

Affected real owners not present and judging by Sportacus’ attitude easy to overlook, _check!_

 

They could play pretend that they came to conciliation! Pushing the natives out with international courts blessing. You didn’t need top diplomats to stage a truce and slicing up the gaps between the territories like a swiped chocolate cake with extra frosting. All in the name of not rocking the boat.

 

The woman in red tapped his arm, bringing him out of his revelation.

“Is my family in on this?” Enlarging their property was something that would be in Glanni’s interest after all.

“We thought so at first. We had our eyes on your brother for a while, but it appears that our land, as well as yours-”

Robbie interjected, “not mine.”

“Would go to someone else,” the eldest finished. “A woman, someone that’s been acting as Oberon’s eyes and ears while he’s confined himself here.”

 

He had a sneaking feeling of who.

 

“Why are you all here then? Playing secret spy too?”

“We want retribution, one way or the other. Or sumac trees will grow and cover what is left of this place,” the first woman said. She had quite the temper, didn’t she? “We’ve been here for months.”

“No one suspects the butler, huh.”

“The king is growing anxious, he doesn’t trust this _maiden queen_.” The hothead continued, “and we, as a people, will not submit. Your humans have done enough damage. We do not need _your kind_ further exploiting what isn’t yours.”

Yeah, that was a fine predicament then for all parties involved.

“So… After telling me all this… What are you planning to do with me?”

 

Evidently, neither of them had thought that far ahead.

 

The lockpicker shrugged. “It might be nice for you to know why you were running around screaming for your life in there, before we got you out. You’re welcome.”

“We won’t stand in your way to save the child, if that’s what you wonder.”

Right, they were supposed to be spirits of nature and protectors. He should introduce them to Sportacus, he’d bet that they would hit it off spectacularly.

“Oh, uh, good luck with your revolt then. I’ll, uhm, show myself out of here?” he laughed nervously and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the stairs he’d come from.

They didn’t reply him.

Jeez, they were a weird bunch.

He could feel their eyes ogling him as he did his best not to flat out run back up the stairs. Well then, back to business. He had a whole lot of pent up frustration and on the brink of a nervous breakdown, and now, he finally understood who he could take it all out on. He had an auntie with a penchant for green birds to pay his respects to back in the grand hall.

 

* * *

 

He weighted the bow in his hands and inspected it. A hunting bow, that looked sub-par to Oberon’s golden one, but this was about function, not looks. He tested the draw weight and strength, humming approvingly. This would do nicely.

“You gonna contest Ron?” Ziggy asked from his side. He’d climbed up on the chest with the bows that he’d discarded, swinging his legs in front of him.

“Yes,” he confirmed. He turned his attention back to the bow. “Ziggy?”

“Yeah?”

“Pretend that I’ve never met Ron before, how would you describe him to me?”

“Oh! Uhm, well. He’s a boy and kinda short, but a little older than me, I think. He’s very good at playing games and he doesn’t like cheaters.”

Interesting. Oberon looked youthful indeed and it wouldn’t take much to make the children of LazyTown believe he was around their own age group. Far more interesting was, that the fae detested cheating, but had himself no qualms in entering a contest where the odds were clearly in his own favour, enchanted bow and all.

“Don’t worry Ziggy, I’m going to get you out of here,” he said more so to ensure himself.

“But, I like it here,” the child pouted.

Sportacus sighed and shook his head. He turned to the monarch, declaring, “I’ve found a fit.”

“Are you sure?” the short fae smirked. “You wouldn’t want to risk being under, or over bowed.”

“I’m sure,” he replied coolly.

“Very well, then. Let us begin.” He held his hand out to his side to gesture for Sportacus to take lead towards the now finished range.

“We’ve prepared a three-round setup. I hope you don’t mind, but I took a few liberties with what we are going to shoot. The audience like a bit of a show.”

“That’s alright.” Sportacus did wonder just what the king had prepared for them though. He looked over where he’d seen Robbie last, but could no longer make him out in the crowd. He frowned and bit his lip, feeling uneasy at the absence of the trickster. Amongst people or not, this was the Unseelie court and all signs pointed to it hosting whoever had tried to kill Robbie. He swore silently, this was not the time for the man to squirrel away somewhere to pout. And… He’d like the support. Even if Robbie was still angry with him, he’d want him there.

Sportacus would just have to bear it and focus on the competition. His crystal would hopefully warn him and he’d have to trust Robbie to not get into trouble for a couple of minutes.

One of the servants, clad in a brighter yellow suit ran up to the side and to curtsy before they declared loudly to the onlooking court faes.

They were some sort of announcer, dancing around the edge of the crowd and the range as they announced the setup of the game. “For our first instance, twenty little birdies flocked through our forest, lets see how our visiting challenger do,” a chorus of jeers and boos, “against our Grace!” a mass of cheers. The faeries had their chosen favourite. He idly wondered if any of them would even dare to not cheer for their king and if punishment would be swift if so, while he was given instructions.

The first round was to hit ten egg shaped balls each before they hit the ground. Easy!

“After you,” the king gave a mock bow as he found himself a perch by the side with Ziggy.

He hoisted a quiver with arrows over his shoulder and took the stand.

The first egg was flung high and far into the air by a small sling operated by a servant by the opposite side of them. He drew and took aim. The arrow pierced it spot on, but instead of a sending the ball further, or creating a mess, if it had been a real egg, a small red robin bird took to the air to disappear in a sizzle of sparks after being airborne for a few meters. A few approving sounds at the display sounded from the crowd. Sportacus didn’t have time to fully appreciate the trick as he lined himself up to shoot the next egg that was shot up into the air.

The last empty eggshell hit the marble floor accompanied by a soft trill from the bird before it too fizzled out of existence.

Ten eggs, ten shots.  This was almost too easy.

He slung the bow of his choice over his arm and gave a wide smile to the king and Ziggy.

Ziggy was practically beaming with excitement and cheered. His smile grew at him, but sobered somewhat when he met Oberon’s dark eyes. He looked a bit too pleased with Sportacus’ performance.

“Impressive,” he acknowledged and hopped down to take Sportacus’ stead.

He himself, stood to the side, closer to Ziggy and gave him a smile and wink. But, the boy had now only eyes for Oberon. He frowned slightly. The boy was taken by the royal. Both physically, but mentally too.

As he had too, Oberon fired away shot after shot, hitting the eggs precisely. Sportacus watched his form as he drew back his last arrow. It wasn’t a good posture and should start hurting his back and arm. The shoulder too slumped and his elbow too far out, yet, he made it look effortless and he did hit the last egg spot on.

Ziggy clapped his hands so fast and hard that he was bouncing in his own little make shift seat.

The smirk Oberon gave him after giving a bow towards the audience was askew and something dark lingered behind the beautiful face.

Sportacus cleared his throat and smiled a little too wide. “Your aim is very impressive too, your highness.”

“Why, thank you,” he sing-sang. Ziggy giggled to their side.

Crossing his arms, he awaited to see what the announcer had in store for them next. There was a theatrical theme to it, it would seem. Much further ahead they had set up a tapestry, there were movements behind it, but it wasn’t for this round apparently as the announcer jumped back in.

“So far so good, we’re at a draw! the Nordic elf is indeed a great marksman, but how fast is he really?” He was about to roll his eyes at the theatrics when he could have sworn he felt a flutter against his chest. Sportacus looked down to inspect his crystal. It was dull and dark in its casing, his own nerves must be playing tricks on him, no one around him had reacted as well and he turned his attention to the talker. “For our second instance, a tree bore fruit in the glen, the kind that I’m sure that our challenger will just love! They will have to shoot as many arrows as they can without fault until time is up or it falls to the ground!”

 

In the middle of the range they pulled in a faux tree. It was ridiculous looking. Why all this paper mache when they could create real looking trees by their will alone? Two golden apples hung from separate branches, one for them each. Sportacus was starting to feel frustrated and somewhat at unease. So far there hadn’t been a real challenge for him. He felt that he was being toyed with. And judging by the royal’s smug face, he might as well be.

Exhaling, he began.

The moment the arrow hit the apple it came loose from the stem and fell towards the floor below.

Ziggy gasped somewhere and Sportacus hurried to pull a new arrow from the quiver and shoot at it before it hit the ground. This was a bit trickier indeed.

The fact that Ziggy was the price didn’t seem to register with the boy. Sportacus had started to wonder how faery touched the child had become and how heavy the weavings of glamours in the hall laid upon him. To Ziggy, it was merely an innocent competition between two of his best friends.

But, even if Ziggy was rooting for them equally, it was encouraging to hear Ziggy cheer for him with each shot he fired into the falling apple, spurring him on. He’d _earned_ Ziggy’s friendship. While Oberon had used glamour, and charmed his way into the boy’s impressionable mind.

“Not bad, not bad at all,” the monarch applauded him from his perch as the servants counted the total of arrows he’d shot. Six arrows.

 

When Oberon’s first arrow hit his apple the thing barely swayed, still very attached to its branch. Sportacus grit his teeth. This couldn’t be a happy coincidence. With his shoulder, Oberon was a slower draw than Sportacus and even if the apple didn’t fall he fired away in a slower pace. He had lined up his seventh arrow and Sportacus could feel his stomach turn into a tight knot, this would be it then? They’d have to leave Ziggy behind. The bell rang to signal times up and he let out the breath he’d held in anticipation. Saved by the bell, literally.

“Aww,” the human child complained.

“That’s alright, Ziggy. I’ll get it the next time,” the fae soothed. Making Sportacus bite the inside of his cheek, the impish look on his face showed that he knew exactly what he was doing to rile him up. “Here, you’re going to need these,” he conjured up a pair of binoculars for the boy.

“Wow, really, for me? Thanks Ron!” He put the binoculars up to his eyes and laughed as he turned his head one way and the other, “Hey, I can see Robbie!” “Sportacus turned his head the way Ziggy was looking but he couldn’t see the man, he thought he spotted the pompadour bob among the faeries, making his way over to them.

The feeling of knowing that Robbie was still with them, was like balm to his mind. It was fleeting however as the talker started up again.

 

“For our third instance, a perfect long-range shot,” they announced. Sportacus pursed his lips. This wasn’t what he’d call long range by any means. Make it at the very least eighty meters and then they’d be serious. He understood to his horror what was going on when they continued with their jovial narration. “A deer crossed through here a few weeks ago, bringing her new-borns with her. A peculiar creature indeed. But, the deer was always Diana’s favourite.”

A collective of chuckles echoed at the mention of the Seelie’s maiden queen.

He really wished that it wasn’t what he thought it was.

“Unfortunately, one of the two did not make it out of the forest.” The tapestry drew back to display a mock clearing, like the one in a play. And in the middle of it…

 

A fawn.

 

In the midst of the faux greenery was an albino fawn, no older than three weeks, tops. Its icy blue eyes did it little favours as it instead relied to get around the garish scenery by sense of smell and hearing. The court faes must’ve taken an interest to it and separated it from its twin. It stumbled around anxiously, its ears darting in every direction.

Ziggy gasped and cooed at the creature in the distance when he saw it through his binoculars.

“Whoever can take down this creature with one shot, will win!”

His stomach churned. This was _wrong!_ Sportacus wanted to break the bow in his hands over his knee and loudly announce just what he thought of this so-called competition.

“Killing for sport and entertainment isn’t right,” was what he managed to grit out. Shooting the fawn would serve no purpose. It wasn’t for food or survival, not even to put down a deathly ill animal, nothing would be gained from taking its life.

The king wasn’t moved nor fazed by the argument against the unethical act. “There is nothing shameful about giving up and admitting defeat. On the contrary, it’s quite admirable.”

Sportacus glared in Oberon’s direction. If he put down the bow and refused to kill the fawn, he would automatically forfeit Ziggy’s life to the court. And if he took the shot not only would he have to live with the consequences, but Ziggy would bear witness of the horrible act.

He couldn’t do it. Not in front of an innocent child.

 

“Pay attention now Ziggy, you don’t want to miss this,” Oberon snickered.

 

He thought of Ziggy’s despaired parents, of his friends back in LazyTown.

 

‘ _I_ _’m sorry_ ’. He drew the bow, cursing himself as he took aim. He didn’t see the surprised expression marring the king’s face at his action.

 

“Hold up people! I have an announcement to make!” Robbie jumped in.

 

With a surprised yell he managed to lower the bow without firing the arrow. “Robbie?!” His heart was beating one mile a minute. He’d almost shot him!

“Hey, Sportaclod, missed me?”

 

* * *

 

The merry gang of Mikumwesuk fell away into the shadows behind him. He didn’t know where to and he didn’t in particular care. He already had his sights set on something else entirely. Somewhere further ahead he could hear the crowd gasp and cheer as someone announced that Sportacus and the king was at a draw. Good to know, he noted before he advanced on the source of his recent sorrows.

Peacock feathers, again?” he inquired lowly into the older woman’s ear. “How tacky, using the same accessories twice. People would start to think you had an obsession. Say, do you ornament your kitchenware with these pompous birds as well?”

She turned around to see who had the gall to insult her. Robbie took great pleasure in seeing the look of bewilderment and anger flashing over her face before she put on a sickly sweet front. “Robbie? Why aren’t you by the elf’s side?”

“Your _dunter_ says hi,” he smiled down at her.

She grimaced in distain. “You should be _dead_ ,” she hissed, not caring for pretendence anymore. She’d dropped the act faster than he’d anticipated, he hadn’t even been one hundred percent sure that he’d been right, but, there was a first for everything.

And frankly, he was a little upset that she’d confessed this quickly!

Not getting too discouraged however, he continued. “And _you_ ,” he leered back down at her, “are a _trigger-happy Hag_.”

“You flap your gums, not caring what might happen. Someone had to silence you. Permanently.”

She was practically serving him everything on a silver platter. “I wonder how pleased Oberon will be if he found out how much of an itchy trigger finger you have. It’s funny actually, I would never have known what was happening, if it wasn’t for your panicky kneejerk response.” He was riling her up proper, good. “Do tell, is it certain areas the court wants to fill in the gaps, or do you, personally, have a set preference? I’ve heard that the northeast is quite lovely, if you can appreciate the mind-numbing setting, and the natives that won’t budge. They’re not happy campers, let me tell you that.”

“It would be handled by far more capable members of the court, than Rosalina’s lofty charity work for some ingrates.”

“Let me guess, such as you?”

 

All this, for a piece of land?

 

_In New Brunswick?!_

 

‘ _Glad to know how much my life is worth to kill for,_ ’ he thought. Greed and envy, that’s how it got you. He should know better than others. “Hate to break it to you, but you were having a stab at the completely wrong direction. If you’re having issues with _mi madre_ , I suggest that you’d take it up with her.”

“You’re an insolent brat, who should be put in your place.”

“And your hired gun is currently occupied with other matters, so good luck with that. What else are you going to do? Slap me with your saggy bosom? It would be rather traumatic, I’d give you that, but do think of the children. You like children, right?”

“How dare you?”

“I’m more impressed that you managed to stuff it all into that bustier.”

The hag was now seething at him, her almond eyes burning with hatred.

“Give me one reason, why I shouldn’t tell the king that you’ve messed up his grand master plan? Or the tribes residing there, they seem like a fun bunch. Or better, _my brother_. He doesn’t like sharing his inheritance.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. I’ve had it up to here with this nonsense.”

Her response was to attempt to spit in his face. It was sheer dumb luck that he’d pulled back just that moment.

Oh well, he’d tried. “I don’t usually promote exercising, personally I hate it, but I’d suggest that you throw those sacks over your shoulders and start running.”

He left her where she stood. If she was smart she should run far, far away. Never underestimate how petty he could be.

 

This had been a harrowing experience, and it was far from over. He made his way over to the range, ready to put this farce to an end. Sportacus had gotten to show off, the king had played cat and mouse and they should all be pleased. That is, until he heard the announcer declare the rules of the final target and he ploughed through quicker to reach Sportacus.

Shooting live targets?!

He felt his heart get acquainted with his Adams apple. The king must’ve gone mad and had taken the contest into a sinister direction. Not even Robbie, in his wildest rotten schemes, could ever bring himself to consciously take a life. This would not go down well with the hero. Robbie was ready for Sportacus to throw in the towel. The contest didn’t matter anymore anyway. He had new leverage to get Ziggy back with them. He was close enough now to hear Oberon mock Sportacus’ soft heartedness. And for once, he himself didn’t agree with the teasing.

He just needed one last piece to complete his case and all three of them could go home. He needed to know about Sportacus’ cousin.

He saw Sportacus’ shoulders slump in defeat. A sad look, but it would sure enough perk up again at his news. Or maybe quicker than he’d thought? The man straightened back up with renewed determination. The profile set in a grim expression as he did the unthinkable.

Robbie saw him raise the bow again and pull the arrow back.

He wasn’t seriously going to do it?

_He was!?_

 

Shouting, he ran up to Sportacus to make him stop.

 

In hindsight, throwing himself in front of a drawn bow wasn’t the smartest move he’d done today, it wasn’t much better than following a stranger down into the utility rooms. But, hey.

 

“Hey, Sportaclod.” He had about as much wits about himself not getting accidentally shot that he joked at the shocked man, “missed me?”

The elf stared at him, before he choked out, “what?”

“Ohh, wrong choice of words.” He looked over at the white fawn in the distance. A lot of bad words directed to the monarch crossed his mind. He leaned in to whisper in Sportacus’ ear, “when you said that your cousin would make inquiries, was that the truth?”

Sportacus looked up at him quizzically. “It was.”

Robbie grinned from ear to ear. Things were looking up. “Perfect.”

He patted his shoulders and pulled away to smile at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving our hides, or the deer’s, or Ziggy’s. Take your pick.”

Oberon looked on from his perch with mild interest. He was clairvoyant, not all-knowing, Robbie had to remind himself. People easily forgot that, Oberon himself included. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Oh, I know what you’ve been up to, your highness,” he sing-sang as he still rested one hand on the other man’s shoulder, more so to ground himself.

“Do you now?”

“I know that you and Diana have some deal going on, and that it’s going sour pretty quickly. Enough that you can’t even leave for more than a handful of hours, or you’ll get an uprising on your hands.” He was guessing that last part, however the reaction it brought him indicated that he’d been onto something.

The self-content expression on the royal’s face melted away instantly and was replaced by a grim mask, making his already doll-like face devoid of compassion.

Bingo. If it wasn’t for directing all his focus on appearing calm and collected and certainly not trying to vibrate out of this dimension with his shaky knees, he’d make a happy little jig.

“Choose your word carefully, Rotten. I could have you in chains in an instant.”

Robbie had expected that threat. “What do you think would happen if the blasted elf, or I disappeared?” He looked up, putting on a big eyed innocent front. “You can’t touch us. Not anymore. You see, other Numbered Heroes are making inquiries of how waterproof Queen Diana’s and your claim of land really is. All thanks to your trigger-happy spy.”

He let go of Sportacus to turn and point to the location where the hag had been. He was selling her out and he wasn’t even a little bit sorry. To his surprise she had been daft enough to stay in place. Robbie would’ve legged it ages ago. He was no hero, he was looking after his own interests he told himself.

Anyone in her presence stepped away from her, afraid of getting in the king’s eye focus. “This is pure nonsense,” she laughed. “You’re only admitting that you were colluding with foreigners against your own people.”

He scoffed. _These_ were not _his people_. His people resided in a, used to be, quiet little town in the American Midwest.

He addressed the monarch again. “You’ll as well find a mighty peeved redcap in one of the lower chambers.”

A murmur spread throughout the grand reception hall. “A redcap?” Even Oberon leaned forward in sober interest.

Robbie hummed and smiled. Redcaps were courtless for a reason. Too blood thirsty and tended to give them all as a collective a bad rep. It was hard making treaties with the human community if you were guilty of sheltering crazed up serial killers. “She’s furious, I’d suggest you bring a couple of guards down to her before she breaks down the door.” Having the hag get a little overboard on the bloodletting was one thing. Employing redcaps was something else entirely.

“Is this true?” he squinted down at the noble woman in green.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about, my king,” she quivered.

“Let’s find out then, shall we?” The smile adorning the porcelain face was crooked. He hopped down and marched over to the hag. She really should have taken Robbie’s advice and booked it. She looked like she was about to, but guards circled her, and she was helpless as the king took her wrist in a hard grip.

With a snap of his fingers both of them were gone.

That’s real teleportation for you. No flare, no finesse, just empty space.

Sportacus clutched his crystal in confusion. “What just happened?”

“Has it done the weird buzz thing earlier here?”

“I don’t know, once during the contest, maybe.”

“Then you don’t want to know.” Truthfully, neither did Robbie, but he had a suspicious feeling. Maybe, he did feel a little bad for the hag.

“Robbie? A redcap?”

“Uhm, is this a bad time to tell you I almost got killed for the third time?”

“You… You what?” he gasped.

“How do you think the redcap got stuck down in the inventory?”

“Robbie…” Sportacus was at loss for words and he kept gaping at him like a fish.

“What’s a redcap?” Ziggy had approached them and tugged on his uniform.

“Something very bad,” Sportacus managed to say without looking away from Robbie.

Robbie was going to question if he’d broken the hero, the wide eyed glassy look was creepily intense. He was about to question so, but all he got out was a grunt as Sportacus took him by surprise and flung his arms around him.

“You okay, Sport?” He awkwardly patted the quiver still slung across the other’s shoulders.

“Me? Robbie, are _you_ okay?” he pulled back.

 

A nervous low cough redirected their attention.

“Oh, hi Greg.”

The guard winced. “What will make you stop?”

Considering the fun reaction it got him each and every time? Nothing. Sportacus withdrew completely to idly pat Ziggy’s mop of hay coloured hair.

The guard continued, accepting their fate with the nickname, “King Oberon wishes to speak to you. If you would be so kind to follow.”

The court murmured in outrage and kept a distance from them as they followed the guard, towards the door leading into the anteroom. But, was halted as the fae pointed downwards. Sportacus had taken a grip of Ziggy’s hand and tugged him with them.

“Not him. Only you two.”

“Not happening,” Robbie challenged.

“The child will not come to any harm whatsoever. He can’t enter this part for his own safety,” they explained.

Robbie exchanged a glance with Sportacus. Could they risk letting the child out of their sight again?

“Promise on your life,” he said eventually.

The guard went rigid at the demand. “I… I don’t know if I can make that kind of oath.”

“ _Let them bring the child then_ ,” they all heard Oberon’s voice.

“Yes, m, muh, my king,” the guard stammered and opened the door for them. They did however not follow. Smart move.

Oberon was standing with his back towards them, humming as he inspected one of the paintings in the brightly lit room.

“Ron!” Ziggy tore free and ran up to Oberon, who turned to grin.

“Hey, check this out,” he said and pointed up to the painting. “Whaddya think of it?”

Hearing the ancient king switch from the old timey pompous parlance to modern lingo was jarring.

“It’s pretty, but I don’t know. Isn’t it a bit, I dunno, sad looking?”

“Yeah, exactly. I thought so too.”

This was surreal. Robbie cleared his throat, trying to get their attention.

“Oh, yes, Rotten. My apologies.” He'd gotten the king’s full attention again and he wasn’t so sure if it was such a good thing.

“You wanted to speak to us?” Sportacus answered instead.

“Yes, just one moment, we’re still waiting for company. Ziggy, you should go to Robbie.”

Ziggy frowned in confusion but did as suggested.

Robbie let out a shout and pulled Ziggy towards him when the monarch blinked away and a knife pierced the lower part of the painting where his head had been.

“Ah, right on time,” he said from behind them, looking at an opened side door, not the one they’d come through earlier. How many hidden doors were there anyway! “Step on in, I know it’s four of you skulking over there.”

 

A familiar female with a bad temper stepped out from the doorway, followed by the rest of the gang.

 

Sportacus put Ziggy behind himself and leaned into Robbie. “Who are they?”

“That’s the Mikumwesuk. I… did not expect this.” Not by a long shot. “Hello there, long time no see, like fifteen minutes ago?”

“You again?” The lockpicker stuck his head out as well.

“The very same.”

Oberon seemed unfazed by the attempt on his life and looked bored as he waited for the whole entourage of trespassers to mill out into the room.

“Well then, now that we’re all here, we can get down to business.”

The hothead threw him a quizzical eye. He just shrugged, he was as confused as the rest of them.

The king chuckled tiredly and shook his head. “I should learn my own lesson, and know when to cut my losses and admit defeat. I’ve seen it after all, how it might turn out.”

Great, back to the clairvoyance drivel.

“I understand that you want what’s rightfully yours, nothing wrong with that. I can pull back my people. And instead, I offer you an alliance.”

“Why should we trust you,” the eldest inquired. Yeah, why? Robbie agreed.

“Because it brings me further delight to snap a wretch that once fancied herself a goddess on the nose, and deny her what she wants. Than squabble for land. It’s about quality, not quantity after all. I’ve seen empires fall because they did not know when to stop.”

“And what’s in it for us?” the one in red voiced, “what would an alliance bring us?”

Oberon shot Robbie a look. What did he want with him for? So far, he’d been a nuisance for the king’s scheming.

“A fair chance to participate at the negotiations?” he blurted out. It was what he had said that had gotten him in trouble in the first place after all.

The small nod from Oberon was sign that he, for once, had said the right thing.

Her eyes darted between Robbie and the king. “A fair negotiation where we won’t be silenced?”

“You have my word,” the royal promised. “And as a token of my well-meaning and proposition,” he snapped his fingers and a white creature popped into his arms.

Ziggy cried out in delight from behind them and Sportacus had to hold the six-year old back.

The fawn?!

Wasn’t the king ready to shoot the darn thing just moments ago?!

He addressed the elf in the room, “you took me by surprise. I didn’t actually think you were going to shoot it, I must admit.” He looked up at Sportacus. “You’re far more ruthless than I’d anticipated. Makes one wonder how far you’d go for those you care about.” His eyes lingered for a bit longer until he turned back to the Mikumwesuk. Sportacus made a noise in the back of his throat. Touchy subject.

The hothead took the offered animal in her arms, softly cooing at the thing and it went docile in her arms immediately.

“We’ll, hrm, we’ll bring back your words to our tribes and we’ll see from there,” the eldest said and they all nodded within their group.

“Fantastic.” The king plucked the knife out of the painting and tossed it into the air. It found its way into the red mikumwee woman’s hands.

 

Robbie was having a hard time making sense of what was going on. Things never ran this smoothly. “So, what now? You’re just gonna decide right here and now to suddenly be buddy-buddy and all?”

All this, this conniving, life threatening danger, and scheming?! For the most anticlimactic resolution he’d ever been forced to experience!? He died! _For this?!_ Politics. Bah!

Sportacus took hold of his shoulder.

Oberon looked up in mild humour. “Nothing will be decided here and now. But, proper _real_ negotiations will eventually be held.” He clicked his tongue. “Diana is indeed making her own schemes and I am not above making new rearrangements myself. Having allies are rather more favourable than none.” He smiled towards the valiant group that earlier had been talking about retribution and thrown a knife at him only minutes ago. “I’m more than willing to grant them their will to keep their property.”

Robbie had a few opinions about this he’d like to make clear, but Sportacus must’ve expected it from him. “Just roll with it,” he murmured into his ear in attempt to get him to simmer down. Right, he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I trust that you know how to find your way out. You’ve been here for quite some time after all.”

The Mikumwesuk looked uneasily at each other.

The doors back to the hall opened before the king as he turned his back to them all and walked away.

“What just happened?” the lockpicker asked.

Both Robbie and Sportacus shrugged, that was the million-dollar question wasn’t it.

The hothead jostled the fawn in her arms towards the lockpicker who made a delighted sound at the prospect of holding the creature as they drew back, looking a bit bewildered.

“We saw what you did, bringing down the woman that’s been trying to take our land… Thank you. Uhm, well. Bye, I guess.”

“Uhm... I... You’re welcome?” They disappeared soundlessly and quickly, the only sign of what had happened was the ruined painting. He looked to the side to Sportacus. “Don’t look so smug.”

“Come on,” Sportacus said with a smile and nudged for Ziggy as well to go back into the grand hall. It wasn’t over, not just yet.

 

Oberon had taken his seat up on his throne again while he waited for them. “A well spent gamble, I’d say. I can’t wait to see Diana’s face. Or, imagine, she’s made herself scarce lately.”

He laughed at what had to be an inside joke.

Robbie scrunched up his face. “Yeah, that’s smashing. You lot can work out your own problems, sure. What about me, err, us?” He pointed to the elf and the child. Surely, they had gotten the right to the runt by now.

“What do you want, Rotten?” the king crossed his ankles, resting his head on his knuckles while looking bored with the whole spectacle.

He counted off on his fingers. “I want this target off my back and I want what you took from me; I want Ziggy.”

The king arched one eyebrow and sighed.

“As you wish. I’m in a good mood. Robbie Rotten, I declare you Courtless. You and your company, as well as the child, are free to leave, and I swear that no harm will come to you as a consequence of what has transpired here.”

“Sounds good enough for me, my ki- Sorry, old habit.” Courtless, the royal pain in the neck just had to get one last jab in. Not that it did him any difference. However, his mother was going to have his head for disgracing the family. There just was no pleasing people.

 

Ziggy on the other hand, wasn’t so happy either with the news.

Both Sportacus, _and Robbie_ had to keep a hold of the child from running away. He’d started to kick at their shins and he’d yelped in pain, which led to Sportacus simply resorting to lift the distraught boy with straight arms held in front, and to let him thrash and kick until he ran out of steam.

Robbie got out of the kicking zone, unfortunately that led him straight by the king’s side. “Why did you do all this?” He had to know. If Oberon was as all seeing as he claimed, then he could have foreseen all this going down to prevent it.

Oberon watched Ziggy’s struggle and droned, “I required your presence to get the Mikumwesuk on my side, if not it would have been war on our hands. And to root out the redcap too at that,” his face turned grim. “Trusting Aidi was a mistake on my part. Too greedy and too swift in taking things into her own hands. But, it is rather amusing how things turn out by the fall of a domino brick.”

“What happened to her?” He regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth.

The smirk was dark and devoid of humanity. “What do you think?”

Yeah, he really didn’t wanna go there.

 

Ziggy appeared to finally have calmed down. Wiping his eyes as Sportacus had deemed it safe to put him down again, he sobbed, “Ron, will I ever see you again?”

Robbie wanted to drop kick the half pint of a king. The kid was under heavy influence by his glamour. The boy had barely been one day there and he was already showing blatant signs of Poic Sidhe.

His dark eyes flicked up to them and back to the human child. “I’m sure that we’ll meet again and that you’ll come to play here as much as you wish,” he grinned.

 

Faery touched always found their way back under the mound. One way or the other, they would leave the human world…

 

Okay, that was enough, he decided.

 

“Please, can we go home now?” Robbie whined.

“Of course, tell your mother I said hi.”

“Whut?”

Before he could protest, that they could show themselves out too. Oberon snapped his fingers and Robbie was overcome by a nauseating feeling of vertigo and he found himself falling down into the tall damp grass of a field. Next to him Sportacus groaned and somewhere by their feet Ziggy gasped, the abating hold of the glamour must be a bit of a shocker. He tried to take in their surroundings, if this was where he thought it was, then he was going to send the court a glitter bomb envelope.

Somewhere not too far away he heard dogs barking.

“Where are we?” Sportacus asked by his side.

There was only one place that checked out all the slots. “Oh, you got to be kidding me.” Robbie slumped down in the tall grass on all fours and began laughing, the sound airy and thin. He had a lot of built up stress from the past hours he needed to get out of his system. Going insane was one attractive option right about now.

“Robbie, are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Absolutely super… Just gimme a moment.” He rolled onto his back and looked up at the grey sky overhead. How was he still alive? There was no way that this had just happened. “Holy fu-”

“Language,” Sportacus cut him off and eyed Ziggy. Robbie broke into another fit of hysterical laughter. Despite everything, the man was still adamant on keeping language, of all things, child friendly.

“Is he okay?” Ziggy asked and crept up to them in a daze.

“He says so, but…”

“Welcome to the Glæpur estate,” he giggled. “To your right you’ll have nothing but trees and more trees. To your left, the Grand Lake Stream and up that hill, my mother is going to kill me for disgracing her name.”

“You have a mom?” Ziggy said in disbelief.

“Unfortunately for her, yes,” a voice lamented behind them and Sportacus turned around, while Robbie simply tilted his head further back to look up, from his view, at the upside-down matriarch of the Glæpurs', his mother, standing over them with her hands on her hips. “What did you do?” she directed at him.

Typical. He pulled a face and looked at Sportacus as he waved his hand between himself, his mother, up to the sky and then back to himself. “You see what I mean now, Sportaflop?”

Then they got bombarded with a hoard of slobbering dogs, eager to greet the strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit am I glad I'm finished with this chapter, now all that's left is damage control, both mentally and 'emotionally'.
> 
> "Greg" didn't ask for any of this bs. Poor bastard was probably reliving how their mixed parents fought.....  
> Burber's are a nasty piece of work from Mari-el and in human form they become the lovers of humans and then cause them so much heartache that they die.  
> -  
> Oberon isn't all knowing, so when he fucks up, he fucks up big time. And yeah, he was toying with them the whole chapter, that contest was a setup to waste Sportacus time. Followed by emotional trauma. D:<
> 
> AAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaand I should probably point out that no, Oberon isn't malicious regarding Ziggy, but he views human children the same way we view pets. 
> 
> Onwards!


	5. Poic Sidhe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clears throat and points to the sexual content tag. This chapter is basically porn with feelings...

Ziggy had taken to the goblin-woman instantly and had started calling her _Rosie_ within a heartbeat. A worrying sign in Robbie’s opinion. Then again, he was biased.

Another worrying sign was the twitch in his mother’s right eye, which was miniscule, and you’d easily miss it, if you hadn’t been subjected to it for eighteen years straight as a foreboder of getting your ass handed to you on a platter. She’d never raised a hand, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t flay you raw by words alone.

Her green eyes bore down on him. “Care to explain this?” She pointed towards the patio outside facing the backyard. Her subtly engraved bracelets jingled out of the sleeve of her lavender dress shirt with the motion at the two other surprise guests, partly obscured by thin sheer curtains in immaculate condition. Just like everything else in her home.

Sportacus and Ziggy were waiting outside, entertaining themselves by playing with the pack of dogs while Robbie spoke with his mother. Well, Ziggy was, Sportacus was carefully hedging the canines, unsure of what to do with the massive number surrounding them. It was… A peculiar image. He couldn’t help the upward turn of his lips at the sight. Robbie had expected the overly friendly and excited elf to dive headfirst into the, literal, dogpile.

“You’re welcome to visit anytime you want, dear. But, if you’re bringing company, I would prefer if you called ahead. It’s known as manners.”

Yes, manners. He had them. Not inherited from her though. “When did you hear anything from your group of friends lately, or the ' _community_ '?” Robbie said instead. Might as well start at that end, in order to explain this fine mess he’d just clambered out of by the skin of his teeth.

She tilted her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary, preparations for a minor gathering, not much else,” Rosalina peered apprehensively as she spoke, “why? What does this have to do with you popping in,” eyes travelling up and down his form, “looking like you’ve been in a tumble?”

If she meant the devil’s tumble dryer, then yes, he looked like it. “One of your _dear friends_ tried to have me killed.” His mother’s hand flew up to cover her mouth in shock and he added, “oh, and steal your stuff.”

That had her lower the hand and she inquired in a frosty tone, “who?” Who was it that had dared to cross her.

“Dunno. Audi, I think she was called.” He gesticulated with his hand. “About yea high, Indonesian… I think? Obsessed with peacocks, does that ring any bells?”

“Audi is a car brand, dear. You mean Ibu _Aidi_.” The information sank in. “That _bitch!_ ” she spat, making Robbie gape in surprise at the profanity. “I gave her my support, and this is how the ugly shrew pays me back?” Her manicured nails dug into the dress shirt as she crossed her arms and paced, spitting other more vulgar words of abuse directed towards the treacherous hag.

Somehow, his older sibling’s colourful vocabulary was starting to make sense. Well, it was never too late to learn something new about your near and dear ones.

She stopped by the patio windows, taking a deep shaky breath through her nose and let it out, looking past the sheer material of the curtains at Sportacus. “And what about the elf then? What’s one of the huldu doing here?”

“He has a permit.”

She snorted, “ah, one of their _heroes_ , I should have figured from the large blatant number on his back,” as if that was explanation enough. The woman pursed her red lips and shifted her gaze towards the heap of dogs licking and playing with the boy. “What’s the matter with the human child? He looks sort of…” She made a wavy gesture of her own and looked back at him. She must’ve caught on to Ziggy’s dazed state when they had walked the short stretch up to the estate building.

 

And that’s how Robbie came to retell, a somewhat edited… A very edited, version of the past few nerve-racking days, careful not to mention anything too personal. It was, more or less, a quick heavily censored summary; that the courts had been in cahoots, the greedy hag, that Ziggy had been under the mound, the new deal that Oberon had undergoing, and so on, “-your ex bestie hid a redcap in the court, Oberon found out and he wasn’t happy. At all.” He finished, “how could you not know what was going on, on your own doorstep?”.

“Believe me, I had no idea,” Rosalina murmured. She seemed calm and taking the news in stride. Her tone grew cold. “I’m going to have to make a few house calls. I do not appreciate being kept in the dark…” She was lost in thought, a slight crease in her forehead, until she continued, “and you, darling? Are you alright?”

About that. He cleared his throat, there was still one more thing he hadn’t told her. The icing on this disaster cake. “So, uh yes, but, I’m kinda, uhm,” he forced out the words quickly before he chickened out, “now also declared courtless as well.”

Her face blanched, making her red lipstick stand out more so in contrast to her already pale skin, and oh, that twitch was back. “ _You did what?!_ ” she cried out and balled her fists. The temperature in the room did a funny thing, making him feel like he was freezing over and scorched at the same time, this hadn’t happened since his father was still alive.

“H, hey now,” his hands flew up and he took a few steps backs, “remember that part where I told you I saved your property? That’s pretty big, right? You can’t be mad at me for being a good son?”

She groaned in frustration and looked up at the ceiling, trying to convey divine revelation from the chandelier. “Whatever did I do, to deserve sons like these?” she lamented.

Should he start in numeral, or in alphabetical order?

“Do you have any idea what you have done to my name?” her hands flew to her chest then outwards. “ _Our_ name?!”

“You and Glanni, not I,” he pointed out. The head of the family had always complained over Robbie’s choice to change his surname. Bet she wasn’t so sorry over that now.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Robbie!”

“Well, in that case.” He stuck one hand within his west and presented to her the knife he had pocketed earlier. “I’m sure you don’t want this then?”

The temperature in the room stopped being on the fritz the very same moment as her eyes were drawn to the intricate handle, taken aback by the token. The carved green jade made little to no doubt of who its previous owner had been. Her gaze flicking up to him then back down at the offered knife. Tentatively, she took it in her own hands, twisting it and scrutinizing the craftsmanship.

She unsheathed the knife to inspect the blade, careful not to come in direct physical contact with the otherworldly metal. With a snap she sheathed it again and met his eyes with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Where did you get this?”

“Consider it dowry of a dead woman.” Dead, or worse.

“Pity. I would have liked to exchange _words_ with her.”

He was sure she did.

“The elf and that poor human child are welcome to stay.” She snapped her fingers and the blade disappeared, probably to the rest of her collection of antiques, or whatever riches she’d come over. “Don’t make a habit out of this, Robbie, I have enough sorrow brought onto me by your brother.”

Robbie couldn’t argue with that really. Glanni could talk the talk, but sure as hell not walk the walk. A sharp tongue did not mean that you had a keen mind. Which brought to _his_ mind. Glanni had been as twitchy as could possibly be after the statue…

“And stop making faces at me.” Rosalina brought him out of his musings.

He rubbed his nose to hide his tic. “I can’t help it, I’ve told you.”

She huffed, it was a perpetual argument between them, one out of many other, before she schooled her features, smoothed back and down her dark hair in loose curls. “Well, then. I believe I should invite my guests in. At least the elf is handsome. Sportacus, you said his name was?”

‘ _He_ _’s off limits!_ ’ was what he managed to stop himself from squeaking out, that didn’t however stop him from making a strangled panicky noise and visibly lurch by her side.

She gave him a teasing smile.

Oh, he had walked right into that one. Well played, mother, well played.

Rosalina drew back the curtains and opened the double doors to address the duo outside, her voice shrill and over the top friendly.

They were related alright. Switching between private to public masks in seconds.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure what to make of Robbie’s mother. The woman appeared disarming enough, looking like an unsuspicious human high-end lady, but, her eyes had a calculated gleam to them that put him on edge.

 

She had a temper that matched her son’s, that was for sure.

“ _You did what?!_ ” he heard her cry out from inside the large manor at Robbie. Sportacus was sure that it wasn’t his imagination that the window panes shook at the outburst.

 

“Why are Robbie and aunt Rosie fighting?” Ziggy asked from under the pile of the many dogs that Ms. Glæpur owned.

 _Aunt?_ He eyed the round face peeking out from a sea of fur, He’d taken to her more than he’d thought.

Where should Sportacus begin explaining? Half of it didn’t concern even him, and most certainly not a human child. “I think, it’s because he didn’t warn her of our visit,” he said and bent down to scratch one of the bigger canines behind their ears, some sort of retriever, he wasn’t sure, the chocolate brown pelt threw him for a loop. Ziggy nodded and dove back with a giggle.

The muffled arguing softened somewhat behind the closed doors, he could pick up the sound of Robbie’s baritone voice, however he couldn’t make out the words. Some sort of mediation perhaps? 

A wet sensation on the back of his hand had him jerk in surprise, becoming aware that he’d unwittingly tried to listen in on what was going on inside the building. He looked down to the dog staring back at him with its big amber eyes, pushing its nose in under his hand instead, demanding him to continue with his ministrations. He laughed softly at the display and did so, soon he too was surrounded.

A short while after the angry voices had quieted down, they returned. Their hostess was beaming and smiling like she hadn’t just been in a screaming match. She put her hands together and cheerfully declared, “my dear Robbie has explained your predicament.” Robbie came into view behind her, not quite looking as blasé as his mother did. Cooing she carried on, “Ziggy, your parents must be _so_ worried about you, let’s call them and let them know you’re spending the night.”

Sportacus glanced up at the other man. ‘ _The night?_ ’, he tried to convey by his face alone.

Robbie only gave a one shouldered shrug and pulled a face of his own. 

The child crawled out from under the pile and put his hand in the woman’s, as she led them all inside. “Stay,” she commanded the dogs behind them. None of the them followed and stopped just outside of the threshold. It was somewhat unsettling.

Stepping inside the immaculate household of spotless soft-hued interior design, Ms. Glæpur spoke again. “I have only one rule in this household,” she informed them, “no running.” She lifted a finger at him especially.

 

Why wasn’t he surprised?

 

Much later, after a long phone call with multiple reassurances and a heavy weight off his shoulders, Ms. Glæpur stated with a finely sculpted brow arched, “they gave him the good stuff,” while idly stroking, what Sportacus first had mistaken for a sentient wig and then had been pointed out for him, a Pekingese in her lap as they watched Ziggy pick at his plate. “I had to bring out the cake I had prepared for the reception this weekend.” She added dryly, “good luck trying to readjust him into human society.”

They were sitting in what their hostess referred to as _The Green Room_ , overlooking the field of the backyard through large picture windows. They had entered it to find the glass table decked with cakes, as well as other food stuff more befitting of Sportacus’ diet. Ziggy had refused everything that he had been offered, until Rosalina with a long-outdrawn sigh had snapped her fingers and procured a rich chocolate cake.

Stiff as a board and equally awkward towards each other, Sportacus and Robbie shared a worried look from each of their far ends of the white pristine sofa in the mint green salon. So far, the few blatant symptoms of Poic Sidhe had been the child’s blind fondness towards the goblin-woman with a somewhat dreamy look on his face and his sweet tooth out ruling Robbie’s. Only time would tell now.

Oblivious to the adults’ concerns regarding his future mental wellbeing, he beamed up at their hostess. “That was almost as good as the cake I had earlier, aunt Rosie. Thank you.” His eyes shifted between Robbie and the woman before he blurted out, “are you sure you’re Robbie’s mom? You’re really pretty,” with a big smile, the lower part of his face covered in icing. Sportacus tried not to snicker at that, ending up jostling the retriever, that had found its way back to him, resting at his feet.

“Aww, aren’t you the sweetest?” Rosalina smiled and pinched his sticky cheek, “I could just eat you up,” she grinned.

“Mother, no,” Robbie protested listlessly.

Sportacus wasn’t sure if they were truly joking.

She turned to him. “I hope the fruit salad was to your satisfaction?”

“Thank you, it was perfect, Ms. G-” She got him with an icy stare. “Rosalina,” he changed mid-sentence.

Robbie snorted.

He cast a glance over the other end of the sofa. The man stuck out like a sore thumb in this setting. So far, he hadn’t seen anything that reflected Robbie’s own personality. Robbie was boisterous and, most of all, _passionate_. This manor was not his home. Too clean, too cool and toned down. Even the restroom had been too immaculate for a normal household. He had a hard time trying to picture Robbie growing up in this kind of surrounding.

“Oh, looks like someone needs to be tucked in for the night,” she sighed, and the motherly façade was back in place.

Sportacus looked at Ziggy and concluded that the small child was indeed starting to nod off, his eyes blinking blearily until his head tilted down to his chest. That was unusually fast, he noted. It wasn’t even past seven.

So did Robbie. “What did you put in the cake?” he inquired from his corner.

The woman didn’t answer him, no more than a wry smile as she sipped on a diet soda.

 

Overstepping another dog lying at his feet, they seemed to appear randomly and eerily silent throughout the household, Sportacus carefully picked Ziggy up. The boy was out cold, but seemingly unharmed, he hoped. He felt unsure if he could fully trust that his crystal would warn him of any harm, not after today. Robbie rose to leave the room as well with him.

“It’s nice with children, when they behave. Which reminds me,” she droned and put down her can. “I want a grandchild,” she looked up to her son humourlessly.

Robbie squawked and froze in his steps. “What, no? Ask Glanni. You know, the oldest?”

“Really? _Glanni?_ ” She levelled him with a stare, the toy dog in her lap managed somehow to mirror the judging look.

Sportacus should probably leave the room as fast as he could. Preferable _now_.

“Eugh, fair point. I’ll think about it.”

“Robbie.”

“I said, I’ll think about it,” he ended the awkward argument, ushering Sportacus out of the salon and kicked the doors shut behind them.

 

“ _Ueargh!_ ” Robbie dragged one hand down over his face. “I’m sorry about that. Parents, what you gonna do about them?” he joked, laughing weakly.

Sportacus hummed and adjusted his grip on Ziggy, not sure how to respond to the uncomfortable situation, or the first words that Robbie had addressed to him directly since they’d arrived.

Robbie pushed off the closed doors and walked briskly by him. “C’mon, I’ll show you where his room is.”

Sportacus followed silently behind.

This uncharacteristic behaviour did not go unnoticed. After leading them to the great entrance and up the manor stairs, Robbie stopped mid-step and looked down at him. “Are you okay?” His expression unreadable.

He frowned slightly at the question. “That’s the third time I’ve been asked that.”

“Funny that... I can relate. It’s like people don’t believe you, or something.” He continued upwards again. “So, how are you?”

He couldn’t explain the uneasy feeling in his chest that he’d been carrying around for days now. Physically he was in top shape, he was almost restless, but, his mind was still trying to catch up with everything that had taken place. “I don’t really know… I feel worn thin? My head does anyway.”

“I get that feeling.” He led them along to the end of the upper corridor, framed by several doors on one side and the bannister overlooking the great entrance on the other. “It’s been one hell of a day… Also, thank you. For, you know… Uhm,” Robbie struggled with whatever he was going to say. “Saving me and all.”

Sportacus spluttered and his gait stumbled. He’d been about as helpful as a concrete parachute. “I wasn’t there for you when you met the redcap.” He refrained from shouting that out when he remembered his sleeping load. He hadn’t been there when he was needed, not for Robbie, and he’d done nothing helpful to get Ziggy back either, Sportacus thought while he was led to the end and into a bedroom.

“No, but the Mikumwesuk were. All in _Oberon_ _’s master plan_ , no doubt,” Robbie said sardonically at the king’s name while he stood leaning against the doorframe behind them, watching Sportacus tuck the sleeping human in.

That would explain the groups’ familiarity with the man.

 

Ignoring the feeling of the other’s eyes resting on him, he looked the boy over. “What did she give him?” He stroked the bangs out of the child’s face and adjusted the duvet.

“She probably gave him the same concoction that she gave me and Glanni whenever we became too much, and the nanny wasn’t close at hand,” the deep voice said from behind him. “Believe me, nothing short of the house falling down on us will wake him for the next couple of hours. I’m actually jealous.”

He looked back at him. “That’s horrible, Robbie.” There were other words for it. Unethical, dangerous, and many, many more.

Robbie just shrugged in indifference. “She’s better with dogs. And by that, I mean the trainers she has for them. Children are trickier… _I want a grandchild_ ,” he mimicked her comment and grimaced. “No, she wants an heir. If she could, she’d leave it all to the dogs. Some people turn into crazy cat ladies, she decided to become a crazy dog lady. Minus the dog hair that tends to find their way in everywhere.”

Sportacus didn’t know that much about dogs, seeing as how he’d never had one or grown up amongst any. The rules on ownership were strict in Iceland. “How so?” How many dogs would one require to be seen as crazy? And he voiced so as they exited the room.

Robbie rubbed his chin at the question before he spoke. “You want to find out why you’re not allowed to run in the house?” There was a mischievous spark in his eyes.

Sportacus looked up questioning at the taller man. “How’s that related to dogs?”

“Go ahead. Run to the far end of the corridor and back here and see what happens.”

“I’ll set off some sort of trap, won’t I?” It wouldn’t be the first time. If Robbie suggested anything that involved physical activity, then it had to be something nefarious.

“No,” Robbie grinned, “even better. It’s not dangerous. Just highly annoying for my mother,” he ensured him.

Sportacus looked to the end of the corridor and back to the smiling man. “Okay?”

He got about halfway down when the chorus of barking began and the sound of paws thundering towards him from all directions, and he turned back to Robbie, who opened another door and gestured for Sportacus to follow.

The dogs barked and tumbled after like a tidal wave of fur and wagging tails. “No running in the house!” Rosalina bellowed after them from the lower floor. Robbie shut the door behind them, ending up with excited howling and scratching on the other side, along with muffled angry commands for the dogs to stop.

“That’s for bringing up grandchildren,” Robbie laughed, unwittingly trapping Sportacus between himself and the door.

He understood now why there was a ban in place. “That’s… A lot of dogs.”  Sportacus thought that he’d already seen all of Ms. Glæpur’s canine companions. He’d, evidently, been mistaken. Also, he felt guilty for tricking them, they were just excited. This house didn’t seem to be much fun for them either.

“Yes,” Robbie replied, “rumour has it, that every time Glanni messes up something big, he gets her another dog as a peace offering.”

“Really?”

Robbie made a noncommittal sound. “Honestly, I’m afraid to ask either of them.”

The noise ceased, and it was once again only the two of them.

Sportacus became aware of just how close they were. Not for the first time, could he feel the warmth of the other’s presence.

“I think the coast is clear, maybe, you could show me my room?” He assumed that the invitation for Ziggy to sleep over extended to him as well.

Robbie rolled his eyes at him. “This is your designated room, Sportadope.”

He looked to see that it was a new guestroom. “Oh.”

Another moment of silence.

He cleared his throat. “So, what does your mother get when you mess up?”

“Cold Iron,” was the monotone answer.

“ _What?!_ ”

Robbie hushed him and finally stepped away to give Sportacus his space back. “I gave her a blade of Cold Iron I nabbed from the court, as a gift and apology for sullying her rep. Also, I wanted to get rid of the thing. Two birds.”

“You stole from the court?”

“Naeh, from the crazy trying to have me killed. Nice to have that off my shoulders,” he said flippantly and jostled said shoulders.

Uncertainly, Sportacus made way towards the centre of the room to look it over, keeping the other man in his peripheral vision, aware that Robbie was watching him in turn and it wasn’t just his imagination, before he sat down on the queen sized bed to face him fully again. Robbie’s behaviour since they’d arrived made no sense. He was… _Too friendly_ , considering that they still hadn’t addressed the events that had taken place between them. So far, they had been oddly civil. And, well, Sportacus was waiting for Robbie to start up again with his verbal assault, on how Sportacus had broken some one-sided rule of good versus bad, any second now that they were alone again.

 

“About earlier…” Sportacus started.

He didn’t get to say more before Robbie spoke over him. “You said you liked me?”

Straight to the point then. “Yes,” he confirmed, although not sure if Robbie had understood the extent of how much, and in what way, he did so.

Robbie’s mouth tugged at the corners. “You _like_ me.” A statement.

Sportacus nodded. The small upturn of the corner of the man’s mouth turned into a smile, and then a wolf’s grin that sent chills down his spine, and not all of them unpleasant.

“That’ll make things easier,” he advanced as he spoke, “because it seems, I’m not completely done with handing out compensations.”

Tilting his head upwards as the other approached, mystified at the behaviour, he asked, “what do you mean?”

He was by no means ready for when Robbie pushed him down on his back and climbed on top of the bed. This was, by far, the complete opposite of what he’d thought would’ve happened. Robbie’s low laughter rumbled against his chest with how close they were when he’d toppled Sportacus over and laid securely on top of him. “I mean this.” One hand dragged slowly up his side, sneaking in under his vest. Sportacus’ abdominal muscles tightened at the intimate contact.

His own hands found themselves gently placed on the man’s sides. “Robbie?” he exhaled, staring up at the man, feeling like he’d missed some important key sequence that had led him into this compromising position.

The other man chuckled from above him and he ducked down close. “Consider this me showing my gratitude and paying you back,” his breath ghosted over his mouth.

 

Sportacus froze up.

 

_Paying him back?!_

 

Showing him his gratitude by paying him in _natura_ was definitely _not_ what he wanted!

 

He pushed Robbie off himself, rougher than he’d meant to and the man fell off the bed with a crash.

 

The denied man took the reaction surprisingly well. “A simple ‘ _no thank you_ ’ would have sufficed,” he stated casually, bouncing right up and dusting himself off before Sportacus had even gotten his own bearings back.

“Robbie-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” He raised a hand and strode towards the entrance. “I misunderstood, a simple mistake. Let’s forget this and move on. Goodnight,” he said far too cheerily and closed the door behind him. Leaving Sportacus sitting by the edge of the bed, feeling very confused of what just had transpired.

That… had been an act. This, and not the part before, when Robbie pushed him onto the bed. _That_ part had been genuine! He groaned and got back up on his feet.

Of all the miscommunications, or rather complete lack of communications, they could’ve had. Sportacus needed to make this right somehow.

 

He didn’t find Robbie, instead he found their hostess curled up on a couch in one of the drawing rooms, reading a magazine.

 

“M… Rosalina, do you know where Robbie is?”

She didn’t look at him as she answered him cryptically, “he’s so much like his father, you know. Too many feelings than he knows what to do with.”

“Please.”

“He’s in the pavilion. Follow the stone path leading down the front garden and you won’t miss it. It’s impossible to not see that eye sore.”

“Thank you.”

“And no running!” she called after him.

The moment he was outside the building he began running down the stone path leading into the front garden. Finding the round pavilion was as she had said, impossible to miss. He’d spotted it the moment he passed a large flower shrub and there it was. It was so, so _Robbie_.

 

Once upon a time, he was sure it had been a homey little rotunda…

 

And then Robbie had happened to it.

 

It looked like the industrial revolution had grown out of the side of the pavilion, with big cog wheels, chimneys and what not, for what purpose eluded him. A warm glow shone from inside the colonial window panes and he could make out the dancing shadows of someone being in there.

The last stretch was hedged with signs hammered into the ground. The first one read in big black letters ‘ _Keep out!_ ’ The penmanship was crude, one of a child’s, and a painted angry skull. The other signs read the same, some of them specifically referred towards Glanni and ‘ _Icky siblings stay away!’_  He couldn’t help but smile at it all. This must have been Robbie’s grounded version of a play house. The one piece of the estate that reflected Robbie. The closer he came to the pavilion he could hear a muffled ranting.

“ _Idiot, you just had to jump to conclusions. Of course he didn_ _’t mean it like that._ ”

Robbie?

“ _You had to push it didn_ _’t you. Ugh, I should become a hermit and never show my face again, but wait I am already one! Nice going there!  Moron, moron, moron_ _…_ ”

He couldn’t let the self-deprecating rant go on and he tapped on the wooden frame of the door, and opened it.

Robbie froze up and ogled him like a deer caught in the headlights from his position on the floor. He was sitting with his back against the bench edging the inside of the structure, clutching a throwing pillow wedged in by drawn knees against his chest. A quick survey concluded that there was a whole lot of pillows in there. Apart for the furthest end of the pavilion that had various scattered industrial knick-knacks, it looked like the bedroom department of a store had passed through the small round building, leaving a disaster of pillows, cushions and quilts in its wake.

“Can I come in?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but stepped in without an invitation. The floor was soft and gave way a centimetre or so under his weight.

The reaction was instant. “Can’t you read the signs? There are several of them. I would’ve thought that even someone as muscles for brains like you could read big bold letters.”

He made the short distance to the upset man and sank down. “Please, stop,” he rasped and sat on his knees opposite of the man. Some kind of tool was digging into his shinbone, but he tried to ignore it and focus solely on the man staring at him.

“Huh?”

“The name-calling, the petty insults,” he clarified. “I’m tired of them. I was hoping that you were too.”

“Oh,” Robbie murmured and looked away.

“You understand?”

“Yup… Sticks and stones. But, words…”

“They hurt too.”

“Yeah. Whoever said they don’t, is lying.”

They were on the same page regarding that at least. “What happened in there?”

“I have no idea what you are referring to.”  Robbie looked at anything, but Sportacus.

He waited.

Robbie finally figured that there was no way around the subject and gave up with a forlorn sigh. “I misunderstood and made a fool out of myself. When you said that you liked me, I assumed that you meant that you liked me… You know, like _that_.”

“I do, Robbie. I do like you like that.” Robbie had understood the way Sportacus had meant it, and yet they had managed to botch it up. But, that was why he was here now, wasn’t it? To try to un-botch it. If Robbie would allow him to.

He gaped. “B, but, then, then why did you-?”

 “You were angry at me and didn’t want anything to do with me,” Sportacus pointed out, “and then, suddenly you implied that you were going to repay me, _with sex?_ What was I supposed to think?”

“I was trying to lighten the mood. It was a joke!”

“Sorry, but, _your_ jokes suck,” he disputed.

Robbie sighed, “I suppose so,” and hid his face in the pillow. He mumbled something into the fabric.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said,” he looked back up at him, “I don’t understand. I am mean, you know; rude insults, calling you names and trying to drive you out of town by force. Why would you…?” His words dwindled out.

“Do you still want to get rid of me?”

“…No.” He nosed the pillow and kneaded his hands into it.

“I’m not a mind reader,” he stated, “you need to talk to me, tell me your intentions. I was convinced that you hated me and suddenly you didn’t?”

Robbie had drawn his shoulders all the way up to his ears and it looked like he would tear the pillow into pieces any second.

Since the other didn’t reply, he continued. “I do like you and… And enough that I’ve put up with the verbal abuse, but, I can’t keep doing that. I don’t think either of us can. I just… May I take this?” He took a hold of the throwing pillow, Robbie’s last physical barrier between them. Robbie pouted at the loss as Sportacus threw it over his shoulder and sat closer instead. Silently grateful of getting rid of whatever that had dug into his leg. “I wish that you would let me in.”

“What do you mean? You clomped inside here already,” he said in confusion and his brow twitched.

Trying to speak softly, he explained, “you keep everyone away and I don’t understand why. All this hiding, the personas you take on.” He pressed his lips together in a firm line before he continued, “your regular outfit is among your disguises for a reason, isn’t it?” He chanced to place his hand on one of the updrawn knees. “Please, _let me in_ ,” he begged under his breath.

The man didn’t answer him for a long while and with each second ticking by his heart sank. The last time Sportacus had broached the subject of his disguises and the reason behind them, Robbie had lashed out in anger. He could only hope that Robbie wouldn’t clam up again and ultimately shut him completely out.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus kept looking at him, patiently. Robbie couldn’t bear it, what did the man want from him? “I don’t know how,” he finally replied.

The edge of the other’s mouth tugged into a small lopsided smile.

That reaction made no sense. “You won’t like it so much, once you have to put up with this mess.”

“You don’t know that.”

He eyed him warily. If he understood Sportacus right, and that was a big if, then the other man wanted something more. A relationship. Those never ended well in his experience, in fact, they had a tendency to end before they’d even begun. How ironic would it be, if Robbie unwittingly drove the hero off, by subjecting him to what was the walking disaster that was Robbie himself? The ultimate scheme; fall in love and watch the man run for the hills like everybody else had. A fleeting sexual encounter was harmless in comparison, where he could hide behind the pretence of indifference.

He looked down at the hand still placed upon his knee, following the arm up and met the elf’s eyes.

“What do you want from me?”

“You.”

Robbie tried to make some sense of the short answer. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.”

Sportacus bit his lip with a small smile, ducking his head before he looked up again, looking far too boyish for his mature age, a flush creeping up his collar. “I want _you_. All of what you are willing to share,” Sportacus added and shuffled closer, letting the hand that had previously rested on Robbie’s knee to now grasp his shoulder, whilst the other came to place fingers gently under his chin. “I want to understand you better and be there _with_ you.” The pressure of the fingers was very distracting, Robbie barely caught the last part.  “-Your brilliant mind and the mess you leave behind.”

Robbie shivered. It sounded over the top cheesy, far too inane coming from the man’s lips. And yet, he couldn’t help wishing that it was true.

“I’m going to kiss you,” the other murmured.

He met him halfway, too impatient to wait for those last inches between them. The taste and pure feel of his dry lips was causing flutters in his chest, and dear lord, had he kissed him as planned up in the bedroom, then he was sure he would’ve fallen just as hard as he did now, and all pretence would’ve crumbled away to nothing. He couldn’t fool himself, he wanted Sportacus and should have known that this would happen beforehand.

Sportacus was smiling as he drew back, the fingers that had tipped Robbie’s chin up had moved to cradle the side of his face.

“Well, uhm, this goes without saying, I suppose, but I like you too,” he said, voice cracking to his embarrassment. Sportacus reply was to grin and give him another infuriatingly chaste kiss.

Patience, nor chastity had never been his greatest virtues. Grabbing hold of Sportacus’ shoulders, he got up on his knees and then fell to the side, pulling Sportacus with him and rolled them over until he had him under him.

Sportacus pulled a face and squirmed. Robbie’s heart hiccupped, afraid that he’d somehow misunderstood everything all over again. He was ready to scramble off, an excuse already on the tip of his tongue, when he got pulled back down with one strong arm, while Sportacus’ other searched the quilted floor under his back. With a triumphant noise, he pulled out one of Robbie’s old monkey wrenches from under him.

Oh, okay. That made sense.

Giving the offending tool a disapproving look before he discarded it, Sportacus returned his attention to Robbie. “Come here,” he said softly in his funny accent. Robbie more than happily obliged and kissed him hard and deep.

Sportacus pulled back, discarding his bracers and vest with a quick press and pull by the fastenings in the middle, placing them by his head, still making sure that the crystal’s casing was secured. Robbie didn’t waste time and tugged that infuriating hat off, googles and all, while he was turned away, humming in ill-concealed satisfaction at the rare view. Sportacus gave him an indulgent smile and a raised brow at his antics.

He smiled back while he carded his fingers through the unruly caramel locks before he dipped down again. He tugged a handful and brought them together in an open-mouthed kiss, letting his tongue lick into the man beneath him. Dancing, trying to mimic what he himself liked, and as per order, Sportacus groaned, surging upwards. He found his place between the elf’s thighs, feeling one hand holding him close between his shoulders before it settled in the small of his back as Sportacus answered back in kind.

 

If he ceased to be this very instance, then that would be alright by him.

 

Robbie thoroughly enjoyed the sounds he drew out of the other’s mouth and the hitching sigh when he dragged his hands down his sides before he squeezed and massaged the inside of his thighs, back to his butt cheeks to heft his legs over the crook of his arms. Digging his toes into the soft ground under them, he shifted his full weight forward as he pushed and manipulated Sportacus’ tight body however he wanted that’d give him the best advantage. He was more than aware that Sportacus’ other hand had made short work of his belt buckle up by his sternum and dragged the zipper down with an audible noise. Yet, he jolted at the feel of it finding its way inside and palmed at his groin. Still not inside his underwear, but...

Things were moving fast. He pulled up, gasping for air and looked down with bewilderment. “You really want this?” he breathed heavily. “With _me?_ ” A silly question, really, but consent and all that, he didn’t want to make the same mistake again.

The look Sportacus gave him was a mix of utter fondness and chagrin in equal measures. “Yes, I want _this_.” His hand had found its way down his backside inside his dress pants and squeezed his butt at the last word. “And more,” he purred as he rocked against him, making contact with his own hips.

Robbie made a rather credible impersonation of a surprised goose getting strangled. Sportacus laughed and continued his mission on getting inside Robbie’s pants. In turn, he bit down on the side of the elf’s neck. More determined in making the other feel it than leaving a mark. That, he didn’t particularly care of, since the loud groan he got was payment enough. Feeling pressure building and tauten his body. “Can’t just say things like that,” he murmured just beneath the man’s jaw and nipped at the jugular.

“Sure I can.” Sportacus replied and started to peel back Robbie’s layers, in more than one sense.

He had been more than ready to settle for a heavy make out session with groping galore, but damn it all, who was he to deny what was offered him.

“Then get naked” he said. It was both a demand, if they were doing this, if he had understood the implications correctly, but, if Sportacus objected, they could keep it at this.

To his utter delight, that went straight to his crotch, the other man rolled them over to straddle him. Unzipping and wrestling his shirt off, and unbuckled his own belt soon after as well. Robbie in his turn did the same to his vest and shirt, since Sportacus had already undone most of his obstacles, all he had to do was to get his shoes and tight dress pants off. He was about to do so when he was unceremoniously stopped by Sportacus’ sitting up abruptly over him.

His hands travelled around his throat and clavicle, tentatively touching. “Your neck,” he spoke, his voice tinged with worry and small, then said something in a tongue he didn’t understand when he spotted the bruise forming on his abdomen.

Right, the previously concealed marks that had started to mature.

“It’s alright,” he soothed him, using Sportacus’ arms to drag himself up in a sitting position, mindful of Sportacus’ own fading injury.

He didn’t look like he fully believed him.

“If you want,” he tried to bring the mood back, “you can leave your own when they’ve healed.”

“I’m sorry I fai-”

He was having none of it. “I’m here,” Robbie silenced him. “I’m here, and I’m more than fine. Now, _please_ ,” he implored as he took the other’s hands in his own and gave him a sloppy kiss. Following the man down as they laid back on top of the quilts and blankets. And finally, _finally_ , getting rid of the rest of their clothes.

 

Before him laid one hundred percent naked elf. That wanted _him_. Flaws and all. His eyes met incredibly dark indigo, before they hungrily travelled down.

Robbie swore under his breath at the sight.

A notion of becoming self-conscious over his own less impressive physique tried to make it to the forefront of his mind, but he beat it fervently back to whence it came from.

He took his time to let his hands drag over the abs and ridiculous muscles on display as Sportacus stretched out beneath him with a content sigh. He began mouthing at the man’s chest and downwards. What was the use of that six-pack if you weren’t allowed to make the most of it?

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be brought back up to his face. He’d barely gotten started, he wanted to taste every inch and find out just what made the elf tick. Any thought of complaining died when Sportacus put his hand on him and began stroking, and he was left to rest his forehead against the man’s and moan. The palm of his hand was dry, a bit too rough, but damn it he couldn’t do much else but to grind into it even more, before he returned the favour making them both move against the other.

 

And then Sportacus had to breathily say words that he’d never thought he’d hear from the hero; “Fuck me.”

Robbie just stared with wide eyes, gaping in mute shock.

“Too forward?” Sportacus squirmed again, looking unsure.

“You swore,” he eventually managed to sputter out.

He blinked. “That’s what made you stop?” Before he broke out into giggles.

In answer to Sportacus’ question he growled and did his damnest to make the elf’s laughter turn into moans.

 

Tearing his mouth away from his task between Sportacus’ trembling thighs he mumbled absently to himself, “I’m wondering if the lube I stashed here is still good.”

“Convenient,” Sportacus said somewhere above him on his elbows.

Robbie wasn’t going to raise to the teasing tone. They were both very naked and aroused. Shame had bid adieu and flown out the window ages ago.

 

It was still good.

 

Prepping, was slow and Robbie wanted to scream in frustration, at least the view of Sportacus working himself open from where he’d sidled up next to him to embrace the elf made it worth it. He didn’t have any toys, not here at least, to make it more pleasurable for Sportacus. If they were doing this ever again, he could only hope, it was on the top of his list.

For someone pointing out that he wanted clear dialogue from him, he himself wasn’t too vocal on when he was ready or how he wanted Robbie. Seeing as he wordlessly pushed Robbie down on his back with only a sloppy kiss that was more tongue than anything else, as warning and slicked him up before he arranged himself kneeling between Robbie’s legs, forcing Robbie to draw his knees up and spread his legs wide.

Puzzled, it took him a moment to realize the position Sportacus wanted them in, of course the damn hero could never do anything the normal way, but he shouldn’t complain, _he most definitely shouldn_ _’t complain_ when Sportacus twisted his hand and guided him in. The pain of the stretch of his thighs only added to the sensation as Sportacus slowly sank down, enveloping him, tight and hot. Any coherent thought fled his head and he nearly came there on the spot. And then Sportacus started moving, making Robbie grit his teeth and grunt with every rough downturn in a mix of pleasure and pain shooting up his hips and lower back. Sportacus was in total control of the rhythm and force as _he_ fucked him, his brow set in concentration and gasping. However, the pain became too much after a while, overshadowing the bliss, and he begged Sportacus to slow down.

“Did I hurt you?” Worry marring his features, as he let Robbie unfold from his uncomfortable position.

He groaned and rubbed his back, “I’m not flexible enough.”

“Sorry,” he said lowly and replaced Robbie’s hands with his own to massage and ease the tense muscles, kissing him as he did so. “I got a bit carried away.”

Robbie snorted. That was about the last thing Sportacus had been. Someone had problems with letting go with self-control.

Not discouraged however, he gingerly got up and beckoned with his fingers in a ‘ _come-hither_ ’ gesture to join him on the bench with a lopsided smile. “Wanna try this again?” Any trace of hesitation disappeared and Sportacus straddled his lap, letting Robbie guide his member into him again, this time balancing on his knees on each side of Robbie’s thighs, one hand gripping the frame work of the window behind them and the other ruining Robbie’s hair with carding and scraping his scalp with blunt nails. Yes, this was far better. He groaned his name into his mouth when they began moving again, digging his fingers into Sportacus’ flesh.

Sportacus couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, but the breathy moans as he rode him was like music to his ears. The cool exposed glass against his back between the pillows and the living furnace against his front, along with the raw feeling of the quick rise and fall, made him dizzy. He had to be dreaming, this was actually happening?

“You feel so good,” he near sobbed, blabbing everything that his scrambled brain translated his feelings into. “I’ve wanted you, want you, amazing, too good, too,” gasping, “fhhu, _please_ , _please_ , _please!_ ” He didn’t even know what he was begging for. Release, that it would never end, that Sportacus wouldn’t up and leave? All of the above at once?

He must’ve voiced some of it. Sportacus slammed down hard, making both of them shout, accompanied by the noise of creaking next to Robbie’s head when the wood under Sportacus’ grip splintered. His eyes snapped up to meet a too close blur of impossible blue. Awed, aroused and somehow feeling cheated when it dawned on him that Sportacus had still been holding back on him, Robbie let out a deep growl and wound his arms round him. He’d made a request and Robbie would deliver. He thrusted up into him as hard and fast as his waning strength and stamina would allow him.

Sportacus face went slack-jawed and he cried out as he desperately clung onto him instead, keening nonsense of his own into his neck of ‘ _yes, yes, oh god, Robbie_ ’ and complete high-pitched garble when Robbie got the angle to press against his prostate with every push.

On reconsideration, _this_ was music to his ears.

He’d been close already and he came far too quickly, despite trying to hold back the pressure of the built up. Groaning a curse and screwing his eyes shut in surrender, he let his climax overtake him. Every nerve ending was on fire and for a handful of seconds, he’d never felt so humbled, because here he was, doing this with Sportacus, and at the same time utter, complete exhilaration for the very same reason. Still thrusting until he ran out of strength completely, he felt, as much as he heard, Sportacus cry out against him, somehow having managed to wedge a hand in between them to bring himself over the edge.

 

Slowly, the world was coming back in bits and pieces. Sportacus was gasping under his shin and he was vaguely aware of the discomfort from strong fingers digging into his shoulders through the warm haze clouding his senses, as well as an insistent digging of the structure into the side of his ribs.

“Wow,” he managed to croak after a while and Sportacus chuckled weakly, slumped against him. They had somehow sloughed to the side, still entangled. He hugged the man and nuzzled his cheek against his own, the stupid moustache scratched against his face, but he kept doing it anyway until Sportacus decided to cup his face in his hands and kiss him. “This is going to hurt tomorrow, huh?” he joked between kisses.

Sportacus, that dufus, only laughed in lieu of a reply and gave him one of those brighter than the sun grins.

He was in for a world of pain then. He combed his fingers through the blond hair from the man’s forehead, before he flicked a pointed ear when Sportacus with a sigh tucked his head back into his neck. “No, no, no, you’re not leaving me with this mess.” They should have worn protection, if anything then for the very least reason of reducing clean up. It would be typical if the elf decided to conk out now. Robbie was supposed to be the lazy one for crying out loud and he wanted to sleep too, if it wasn’t for the elf in his lap and the wooden frame digging into his naked side.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he slurred, warm breath puffing against his skin, “I thought you knew that.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” He couldn’t help the renewed fluttering feeling at Sportacus’ declaration. One problem at the time though, he was _not_ sleeping in this cramped position. “Seriously, I can’t feel my legs. Get off.”

Sportacus peered back at him again, grinning and very much awake. ‘ _Oh, that little-_ ’

 

* * *

 

It was before true dawn when Sportacus woke up by the insistent beeping from his crystal.

Feeling chilled in the damp cold, he sat up in the colourless twilight, looking around himself before he located his crystal and shortly after that, the source of its alarm in the form of the shivering figure of his lover. “Robbie?” All that came out was a small whimper past the man’s lips. He was on his side facing away so that Sportacus couldn’t look at his face properly. He saw however, that Robbie had snared his legs into the blanket, and took upon himself the task of untangling him slowly with care, in hope to alleviate his distress, murmuring softly, “I got you, Robbie. It’s me, it’ll be okay,” to him. Carefully placing the blanket over them again, he laid close behind the trembling figure, letting his hand rub circles over his upper back. “It’s alright, Robbie. It’s alright.” Shushing him in a gentle reassuring tone through out it. The dim light becoming slowly brighter as only indication of how much time passed. Slowly, Robbie became less tense and his breathing not as shallow.

Even when the episode appeared to have finally subsided completely, Sportacus was still letting his hand travel up his back, his neck, arm, all while still speaking softly. Trying to give physical comfort without crowding him.

“I’m sorry,” Robbie rasped out after another minute, “I don’t know what happened.” Sagging against his chest and letting Sportacus’ arm rest around his middle. Sportacus could feel the lanky frame relax. He fought the instinct to crush Robbie against him and hold him tight, to shield the man, even if it would be futile.

Sportacus buried his face in the back of his neck instead. “I’d be worried if you hadn’t had a reaction sooner or later.” That came out sounding belittling. He kissed what he could reach in silent apology. “It happens and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Was it a bad dream?”

“No, I woke up and then it felt like I was pushed backwards off a cliff, or, or, hit by a semitruck. And, well…” He jostled his now freed legs in demonstration. Sportacus hunch not to crowd or constrict him had been accurate then. Robbie had probably woken up, felt trapped and then panicked.

Sportacus hummed and continued snuggling him, basking in the body heat in the chill air seeping into the rotunda. Autumn was well underway in this region, and a stray thought, wondering if the heat in LazyTown would’ve finally abated when they’d arrive back, came to mind.

It had only been a day, however, it felt much longer. They’d been through a lot. Especially Robbie. The man made quips about processing emotional trauma, but reality was less jovial than jokes. “How are you feeling now?”

“Exhausted… And angry.”

“Angry?” Losing control over yourself and the feeling of helplessness could be infuriating, but turning it against yourself was not the answer.

As if sensing Sportacus’ thoughts, Robbie continued. “Your crystal went off,” he stated into the twilight.

“It did.” A pause, then Sportacus let out a soft ‘ _oh_ ’, as it dawned on him what Robbie meant.

The crystal hadn’t worked when Oberon had been in LazyTown, nor when they had been down in the Unseelie Court, and if he didn’t miscalculate, then it should have gone off to warn him four times at the very least, while during there.

Robbie wiggled around to face him and curl so that Sportacus was in his embrace instead. “Damn midget kings and magic.”

Not the words Sportacus would’ve used, but he wholeheartedly agreed.

“I still can’t believe you were going to shoot that thing.”

Neither could Sportacus. He shifted in his grasp enough so that he could speak. “I should’ve known it was a set up. Two competitors and only one target.”

“He’d counted on you to give up… Jeez.”

He frowned and set his mouth in a firm line. He’d nearly ruined it all. If he had fired that arrow, if Robbie hadn’t stopped him from doing something horrible. And then the king’s enigmatic comment afterwards, about what lengths Sportacus was willing to go.

“Shut up. No, nope. Whatever it is, just shut it.”

He blinked in confusion and peered up. “I didn’t say anything?”

“You went from soft and warm to stonework.” He yawned wide. “All you can do is your best, I believe is what you spout to the kids. Now get back here, I’m cold.”

Maybe he should take his own advice. “Okay.” He settled back into the man’s arms. “Try to get some sleep.”

He murmured into his hair, “I hate you.” Robbie tensed up the moment the words had left his mouth. “I mean, I hate how you can fall back to sleep on command, not that I hate you per se, I only meant, argh, I don’t _hate_ you,” he spluttered.

“I know, Robbie.” He hushed him down. Trying not to chuckle and failing, he burrowed deeper. “Just lie with me?”

He made an indignant huff and held him closer.

 

Sleep didn’t come to him as it usually would’ve. Although, for a long time, he hadn’t shared a bed with someone he cared about in this way either. He was distracted by the breathing pattern of Robbie, the nuzzling into his hair, the barest of caresses of lips against his sensitive ears. It was maddening, making himself actively physical as well. He stroked Robbie’s backside, feeling the outlines of ribs and shoulder blades under his palm before he smoothed out his hand down along the wiry muscles of his lower back, luring a sigh out from the other. In a moment of weakness, he shifted up against him. Inhaling sharply as his growing arousal brushed up against his thigh, and, oh, he wasn’t the only one it would seem.

“Ohh, hello there.” Sportacus heard the smarmy smile on the other’s lips. “Here’s a crazy suggestion, but,” he murmured huskily, “how about we postpone the sleeping part for a little while longer?” Fingers played over his spine, dragging downwards his spinal column a few vertebrae at a time, until he came to the base, only to shift to his hip, under the backside of his thigh and pulled him closer to throw the leg over his own hip, resulting in their groins to be flush against each other’s.

Sportacus had surprised himself the previous evening with how quickly he’d, not only had spread his legs for the man, but encouraged it as well.

This time, he wasn’t as surprised. However, on this occasion, he’d allow himself to be a little lazy and let Robbie do as he wished with him. As strange as it sounded, they both needed it.

In the light of the incipient dawn, colours of gold and magenta painted the interior of the rotunda and its inhabitants. He drank in the sight between deep kisses, wanting to mediate the opposite of what Robbie had slipped between ragged breaths last night, that Sportacus was too good for him, begging him not to leave. It had mirrored his own fears, and hearing them from the other made him realise how absurd it really was. He was no paragon and Robbie wasn’t bad to the core. Neither were going anywhere soon. 

With a low rumble, grasping Robbie’s head between his hands to bring him into a dirty kiss and grinding against him, he now embraced the possessive sensation with open arms finally. This hobgoblin, this contradictive strange man, brimming with passion and crazy ideas -was _his!_

 

No less heated, they took it slower this time, getting more accustomed with the feel of the other, trying to find that muddled line between sex and making love.

 

* * *

 

He was dying, he was sure of it. Robbie winced as he struggled with the steps up the entrance and wedging the front door open. He could still hear Sportacus’ laughter at his misery echoing out there somewhere. Robbie had woken up after a rather cosy post coital snooze to discover, as he’d anticipated yet was by no means prepared to deal with, that his body had turned against him. If this was only the beginning of a muscle ache, then Robbie wasn’t looking forward to the following days when, according to a very unsympathetic and bemused Sportacus, was when the ache would peak. This right here was one, out of many other reasons, why he didn’t exercise. He didn’t even understand how certain areas of his body could hurt. His stomach and back he got. But, his arms?! What the hell had he done to aggravate them?! Lugged around the elf? Well… Maybe he had a little… The fresh memory of Sportacus screaming in ecstasy made his disgruntled features turn into a smile and a heat coil in his stomach.

 

The pleasant feeling wasn’t allowed to last for long however. He passed the open doors to the green salon and did a double take at the sight of scuffed Chelsea boots sticking out over the armrest of the white sofa. Pleasant feeling replaced by apprehension, he advanced towards the set. Coming within view, Robbie saw that the table was cluttered with half empty bottles and trash. What a wonderful surprise. Just the other person he wished to see.

 

“Taken up day drinking, have you?” He peered over the backrest at the disaster of a black clad man lying face down on the sofa. Looking like a sloppy charcoal drawing in contrast to the posh furniture with his excessive use of fake leather.

“Doesn’t count if I never shtopped,” his brother’s inebriated voice slurred from the depths of the cushions.

He pursed his mouth in confusion, trying to decipher the sentence. “How long have you been here?” Robbie hadn’t known that Glanni would be visiting their mother’s estate, or when he’d arrived.

“Hnng, what time is it? Neveh mind. Around nine…Ten… I thingk.”

“Dear lord, that’s it, I’m staging an intervention. You’ve gone too far.” It was baffling that Glanni was capable of coherent speech with the occasional slur.

Glanni kicked out in irritation, not even anywhere near Robbie and not helped either by his constricting faux leather pants, before he with difficulty and sluggish limbs turned around. Someone was zesty. He glared up at Robbie with glassy eyes, his fading makeup a disgrace and having left an art piece on the previously pristine furniture. “I have a legeh, legitimate reason. One of my assshociates fohwarded to me that my brother was dead! _Dead!_ ” Robbie was wondering just who that associate might’ve been. “I went straight over here last night to ask mother if it was truh.” He shook his head in a quick jerk and cleared his throat before he continued. “Not, not, not only did I find out that mah baby brother is vereh alive, but he’s _balls deep in elf!_ ” He muttered something about never going through the front garden again, but it was hard to make out clearly.

He felt his whole face heat up and his jaw dropped. “Well, I, uh,” he struggled. “What’s that to you anyway!?”

“I’m the wronged parteh here! I’m trying to erase the disgusting… _Expos_ _é_ from mah mind and to calm mah poor nervehs.”

And higher functions too. He grimaced. Hypocrite.

 

“Sooh,” Glanni carried on, “ere’s your _boyfriend?_ ”

“Not my boyfriend.” …Not just yet.

“Uhuh” he hummed sceptically.

Robbie had to ask, “why are you like this?” Glanni tried to kick him again. Having a sloshed Glanni would perhaps work in his favour. If alcohol loosened people’s tongues, then his brother’s should probably spill anything out. He wasn’t above exploiting an opportunity presented. He guessed that’s what he and his brother did have in common after all. “Thank you for ensuring that I’m not the biggest disappointment in the family. I’m courtless, and still am the favourite.”

He sneered in reply, “who died and made _you_ Saint Robbie? And when the hell did you go and end up, urp,” he pulled a face and excused himself behind a hand wiping his mouth, “without your stahtus?”

“I can tell you who died,” Robbie retorted dryly, “Aidi.”

Glanni’s reaction was immediate and he lurched up on his arms. “ _She_ _’s_ _dead?!_ ”

“Friend of yours, I take it?”

“We’ve… Shpoken.” He swore loudly. “She’s really dead? But, but, _how?_ ”

“Apart from total disregard for confidential stuff? She sent a _redcap_ after me. But, you should already know all about that.”

His brother’s bushy brow set in a deep frown at the allegation. Something flickered behind his glassy eyes, a glimmer that he wasn’t that far gone under the influence after all. Sneaky ass.

He decided to go for gold. “What did she promise you?” Crossing his arms and stared him down.

“What?”

“Mother had no idea how this could’ve been going on under her nose. You were the one to start screaming bloody murder when the first attempt happened. After that green clad hag had panicked. Or, did _you_ accidentally egg her on?”

“Did that elf screw your brains out? I have no idea what you’re talking about!” The slur was suspiciously absent now.

“You’re the only one with influence enough and motivation. So, _what_ did she promise you?”

“You’ve gone insane,” Glanni dismissed him and reached out towards the glass table for a tumbler still filled with liquor.

Robbie hadn’t expected things to be easy and braced himself for the further abuse he would be putting his body through. Behind Glanni’s back he tugged a mint green decorative pillow free from one of the armchairs.

He examined the pillow in his hands, testing its weight and density. This would do.

 

And then proceeded to pummel his idiot brother with it.

 

“Oww! Hey!” Glanni yelled and tried to shield himself from the onslaught. Ending up falling on his backside on the hard parquet floor. “What the hell, Robbie?!”

“You almost had me killed!” He kept hitting him with it. “What did she promise you? The whole region?”

“She promised me a cut of the new land!” Glanni finally admitted, hiding his head behind raised arms.

Robbie held his upholstery weapon high to let the man speak, threatening to continue if he tried to make an unsavoury move. “And the part that was already mother’s? The one that was supposedly claimed to be invaded?” he inquired.

“I don’t, what?” He blinked up owlishly. “We’d keep it, of course? This was to ensure and expand _our_ property!”

“And you believed her?!”

“She said, that after the split between the courts had been finalized, I’d get a piece of the new land under Unseelie flag,” he looked up over his forearms, “all I had to do was keep it from mother and anyone else snooping around. The less people who knew the truth, the more believable it would be.”

“I got news for you. Everything around here that was under the _fakevasion_ would be hers. You’d lose land.”

“What? No.” Glanni dared to lower his arms completely to stare back in disbelief.

Robbie stared him down in turn, unimpressed and one eyebrow cocked.

“Shit,” Glanni swore under his breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I got played.”

“All that’s missing is if your slept with her.”

“Actually-”

“No, I don’t want to know!” he screamed. Screw intervention. Glanni should be neutered!

He hit him one last time, just for good measure, before he threw the pillow in his brother’s face. Robbie huffed and plopped down on the end of the sofa that was still fairly decontaminated, letting out a pained grunt.

With much ardour and lack of grace, Glanni struggled back up on the seat next to Robbie. Looking worse for wear now after the assault.

“I’m too sober for this bull.”

Robbie snorted. “Have you seen mother around since you got here?”

“Nah. Gone again.”

He nodded. She had said something about making house calls. Just as well. They sat in uncomfortable silence, or, he did, Glanni decided to refill his spilled tumbler. A fine mess this was. Oh well, it was none of his business now anyway. Glanni and Rosalina had a wonderful talk ahead of them once their mother had made her rounds to squeeze the facts out of her contacts, and Robbie planned to be as far away from it as possible. Let his brother with the same business-sense as a belly-up goldfish have his drink. Who knew, it might as well be his last.

 

Glanni made to bring the glass to his mouth and stopped halfway there, looking out the picture windows. “I think I see your boyfriend,” he stated.

“Still not my- Oh, I see him too.” Robbie forgot his protest when he saw the sight out on the field in the distance.

“I see he made some friends.”

Sportacus was either running with the dogs, or from them. It was hard to tell.

 

The hero had said something about being in dire need of exercising and Robbie had not paid too much attention after that. Somewhere the man must’ve taken the dogs off the trainers hands, but most likely and as he suspected, the canines must’ve rounded up on the lively elf. The two of them were now privy to a first-row seat of Sportacus running like the devil back and forth the greenery with a pack of hounds at his heels.

He was a little jealous if he was being totally honest with himself. Robbie liked dogs, unfortunately dogs weren’t so keen on him. His Robo-Dog had been created to be aggressive and function as an attack dog, and did therefor not count when it had turned against its creator. Meanwhile real-life canines just seemed to… Prefer other people over him.

Bah! Dogs were too much work anyway. Besides, he had an elf with the same intensity and attitude as a particularly energetic Golden Retriever now.

His eye caught a peculiar detail. “Is that Princess?”

“Yuup,” Glanni concluded.

The Pekinese struggled to keep up with the larger dogs, but what the spoiled toy dog lacked in speed, she made up for in sneakiness. Robbie could respect that. The yippy thing waited behind to intercept the flipping elf on his rebound and Sportacus nearly stepped on her, causing him to make an extra hop into the air. Which ultimately led to his demise when one of the Labradors full on body slammed him mid-air.

The brothers oohed loudly in mock sympathy.

This was better than daytime television, all he needed was a bowl of buttery popcorn and he’d be all set. There was however this nagging feeling that he’d forgotten about something important.

 

“They say that dogs have the same IQ as a four-year-old human. I don’t know if that means that dogs are clever. Or, if children are dumb as hell,” Glanni mused.

“I’m six years and three months,” a small voice said by them, making Robbie squeak in surprise and Glanni to slosh his drink, biting back a profanity.

“Is that man feeling okay?” A round freckled face peeked up over the armrest.

 

Ziggy! He had been on his way inside the manor to get Ziggy!

 

And, ooohh nope, no! No way on this earth that a six-year-old should be subjected to this repugnant display. He was up and out of the sofa in a second to scoop the kid up, biting back a hiss when his sore muscles protested under the weight of the rotund human. A drunken asshole was the last thing the kid needed to see, on top of everything else.

“Hey kid, you want some candy?” Glanni grinned a too wide smile.

“Ooh, yes please!” Ziggy squirmed around in Robbie’s grip as he carried him away.

“No candy from strangers! Didn’t your parents teach you anything?!”

“Aww!” he complained loudly and renewed his wiggling efforts when Robbie toted him away with a detached ‘ _Tah!_ ’ from Glanni before he slammed the doors shut, getting a sense of déjà vu. “You give out candy _all the time_ when you dress up.”

“That’s not the same thing!”

“Isn’t it?” Sportacus said from the patio doors, looking rosy and a slight glean of moisture clinging to his exposed skin under the hat. He looked… Happy. Such a stark contrast from these past days from hell. “They don’t know it’s you.”

“Sportawitty, take your insufferable child!” ‘ _Sportawitty?_  ’ Urgh, old habits were hard to kill.

“ _My_ child?”

“Short, blond, can’t stand still for a second. You two have to be related somehow,” he groused.

Sportacus snorted in amusement and made no move to liberate Robbie of his burden, resulting in him having to put Ziggy down on his own and watch the boy roly-poly over to his idol. Sportacus inquired if the kid had slept well, if he’d eaten breakfast. A negative on the latter. His lips thinned in displeasure at the answer and his eyes flicked up to Robbie’s.

If the kid didn’t want to eat, then the kid didn’t want to eat. And anything under this roof would only prolong the human child’s addiction anyway.

Robbie changed the subject to something more enjoyable. “Did you get a good run out there? Sorry, we didn’t have any wolves,” he added in jest, “the dogs seem to like you though.”

“They could do with regular activation.” Sportacus gave a small smile and looked back over his shoulder at the pack dutifully waiting outside, they knew they weren’t allowed in before someone had wiped off the grass and mud. Well-behaved, his mother called them. Brainwashed, Robbie argued.

 

“Where’s aunt Rosie?” Ziggy asked both adults with him.

“I was wondering the same,” Sportacus joined in.

“Out somewhere,” Robbie informed. “She won’t expect us to still be lingering around when she gets back. Get used to it.”

The kid looked downcast, Sportacus’ face looked more relieved. The elf had some sense of self-preservation. “Oh, I thought it would be rude to leave without thanking her for her hospitality,” he said.

Robbie scratched the back of his head. “Leave a note in one of the rooms, I suppose. Don’t enter the salon though. Glanni’s in there marinating in alcohol and regret.”

“Your brother’s here?”

He hummed in affirmation.

“That stinky man was your brother?” Ziggy piped up beneath them.

“Hard to believe, huh?”

He scrunched up his face. “Not really.”

Robbie’s own face twitched in irritation. Remind him again why they had to save him?

Sportacus outright laughed.

“Ugh! Go write your note with pleasantries at the front entrance and I’ll whisk up something for Dizzy to wear.” Ziggy had donned the full fancy outfit that he’d been given under the mound. If his parents or the other townspeople saw the finery, then questions would be asked. Questions Robbie didn’t feel inclined to answer.

“That’s not my name.”

“Shush, _Sigfred Junior_.”

If looks could kill, then Robbie would be a smouldering pile of ashes on the ground. Ziggy did not like his real name one bit apparently.

 

A spare of too big clothes, but in the right colours and easy to adjust, would have to do for now after he’d tore through one of the many wardrobes upstairs and came back down with an armful. To find Ziggy in another heap of dogs.

“Can I keep him?” Ziggy asked while petting a Terrier.

“No, absolutely not. And if you take him then _aunt Rosie_ will be mad.” And that was an understatement. He beckoned the kid over to try on the clothes. “Alright, on my count to three. One -Done!” He spun the boy and shoved the spare material over him. “There you go, oh stop whining, you’re still alive, aren’t you? Now, where is that blue kangaroo? We’re on a schedule,” he spoke quickly and pushed the human child before him towards the grand entrance. The sooner they were out of here the better.

 

Sportacus was indeed in the grand entrance, just, not where a normal person should be. The hero hopped down from the upper bannister fluidly, cast one glance down at Ziggy’s new attire and leaned in for only Robbie to hear. “Is there a glamour on the clothes?”

“Regular clothes close enough to his regular outfit,” he whispered back. “No one will notice unless they look too closely.”

Sportacus gave him an unreadable look, but nodded. “How are we getting back to LazyTown? It’s a far way from here, wherever here is…” he trailed off.

“The same way we left LazyTown. Your people seriously don’t have paths of their own?”

“We do, but travelling takes the same amount of time as regular travelling. They’re just hidden from human eyes. Besides, I prefer flying.”

“Boring,” he huffed. “C’mon, I don’t want to stay around here.”

 

He knocked on the door to the salon and shouted that he was leaving, the other side remained silent. Whatever.

 

An inconspicuous hole in the wall down in the cellar served as an entrance for the faery path leading to the outskirts of LazyTown. Hidden in a side room to where they kept the wine and covered in a thick layer of dust, that made his nose itch and twitch, and not from his regular tic. It said a whole lot about how less frequented this path was.

The sensation of the underground streams that guided the path was familiar and soothing to him. A sensation he suspected Sportacus didn’t share, considering that he wasn’t a magic user as Robbie. Feeling the magic maybe, but not in the same way, judging by the expression dancing over his companion’s face before he stepped over the threshold.

 

A second later they were looking up on the welcome sign to the town. Ah, yes, home. About time!

 

Sportacus didn’t waste a second waiting with reuniting the family and soon the whole town was flocking around the Zweet’s residence. Robbie hung back, not wanting to take part in any way whatsoever. Let Sportacus play the hero that they craved and were used to.

 

“He’s going to be a bit of a fussy eater for a while,” the elf was briefing the ungracious father. “Be patient and it should sort itself out with time.”

Robbie spied on the conversation from a safe distance, but close enough, just in case.

“Where had he gone?” Mr. Zweet inquired over his wife’s shoulder as she held their offspring close, said offspring was complaining from Mrs. Zweet’s bosom in muffled cries. Trixie was sniggering at his struggle, but just as happy as her other friends surrounding them. However, their excited chattering ceased at the question and all looked expectantly up at their hero. 

“Ehh,” Sportacus got tongue tied.

Cursing under his breath, Robbie emerged from his cover. _Close enough in case this happened_. “He ran off with a travelling circus. Anything the noise maker says is a product of his wild imagination and recollections of performances. Good bye, take care.” Robbie tried to tug the town’s hero with him, away from the family. “And for heaven’s sake, teach the kid some common sense!” he shouted. Sportacus bid an awkward good bye, excusing himself for not sticking around with the rag tag gang of kids.

 

“A circus?” Sportacus spoke up when they’d gotten away from the residence.

“Did you have a better idea?” he snapped. Sportacus tugged him back a step, making him come to a complete halt. Right, the elf only allowed himself to be pulled and pushed around if he felt like humouring Robbie. He looked down, meeting the scrutinizing glare. “Sorry.”

Sportacus hummed and shifted the grip to intertwine their fingers. “Apology accepted.”

They were out in broad daylight where everyone could see, then again, impulse control was for other people and he ducked down to give a quick kiss. The other man wasn’t objecting to the public display of affection.

Sportacus pulled back, looking a little dazed. “You _like_ me,” he said with a growing smile.

“Weird, I know,” Robbie laughed lowly and started their walk again. Not entirely sure where they were heading. In many ways.

 

Maybe, they should go look if the cursed wire was still laying around... Later. 

 

“I got to ask,” Sportacus said by him again, drawing away his thoughts of if the wire wasn’t there then that would be a worse discovery, “how will your new status affect LazyTown?”

Not a completely unfounded worry from the foreign elf. “Not one iota, thankfully. I own land by human rules. Milford isn’t that good with reading the fine print.”

 

Besides that. Things would never go back to normal again in this small, used to be, quiet town. Not that it ever had been. And, Robbie didn’t in particular mind, not right now anyway. For now, he was going to enjoy the moment.

 

A warm wind breezed past them, making the fall coloured leaves rustle. 

“You know, there’s only two things I’m going to miss with no longer being invited to the fancy parties,” Robbie mused aloud. “The food, obviously, and getting to dress up nicely.”

“I don’t know about the first one. But, nothing is stopping you from putting on something nice. You look beautiful in a dress,” the man answered and ran his thumb in small circles over his knuckle. “I’ll miss the dancing with you.”

“I’m sure we can compromise on both parts.”

“Still no dancing games?”

“Definitely not. A waltz perhaps?”

Sportacus grinned up at him. “That was a foxtrot.”

“And still you-” Sportacus silenced him with a kiss of his own.

No, Robbie didn’t in particular mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter istg. I never really got satisfied and edited and edited -and heck, I’m editing more now! But, it is done!  
> See you on the flipside!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I went to Connemara a couple of years ago and fell in love with Galway. Back then I didn't know about Knockma Hill where the faery king Fin(n)bheara held court, not that I would have had time to visit it, since I was on a tight schedule D: 
> 
> Updates are going to be a bit slow, since I write fewer, but longer chapters (idk 2-3?) and I have actual school related work to do as well. (and another fic to finish)


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